#WHEN THEY TALKED ABOUT LUCKY AND I REMEMBERED THE HOODED MAN?! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

drak3n · 1 year ago

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THE ONE-NIGHT STAND

ꨄ. SYNOPSIS: why did this hookup affect you in a way you couldn’t stop thinking about him months later?

ꨄ. CONTENT WARNINGS: smut, unprotected sex, creampie, slight hair-pulling, two adults being terrible at handling feelings, slow burn, alcohol

bold italic quotes = letter excerpts

PROLOGUE. | SERIES MASTERLIST.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

“you’re probably wondering why i wrote a letter to you. what we had wasn’t that deep, after all.”

“lady in black over there paid for your next drink.”

if there was one word to describe hiromi, it had to be… oblivious. terribly so. it wasn’t like he ever had much time for dating and exploring things, having been occupied with college for many years and climbing his way up the ladder until he could finally call himself a lawyer.

now that he was one, he despised his job. it brought him nothing but trouble and negative thoughts. who the hell had fooled him into thinking it would be a cool job?

perhaps his parents.

the man with spiky, dark hair accepted the whiskey and coke mixture the bartender had slid over on the counter, and he didn’t turn around to check who had really paid for his damn drink until he took a sip first. as a grown ass man, he wasn’t going to take a 180 turn at the speed of light and make a fool of himself.

and oh boy, when he did turn around to check for said lady in black, he nearly took a double take. except for, his hooded gaze stayed plastered on you. unable to drag his dark eyes away from you.

leaned against the wall on the other side of the bar, you were a sight. out of all the laughing and blabbering people dressed in all kinds of odd colors that would usually be more striking to the eye, it was your — he didn’t want to call it normal — choice of clothing that struck him.

short, skintight dress that left little to one’s imagination. yet, his thoughts were running with all kinds of things, gears shifting and turning faster than they ever did before.

it was only his second drink of the night, it wasn’t the alcohol speaking. and it wasn’t also the fatigue speaking. it was him, unfiltered and raw.

you gave him a coy smile and raised your half-empty glass, not even listening to what your friends had to say, wanting nothing but to talk to that man you had bought a drink for.

while higuruma might have started sweating under his suit — he was lucky he had left his jacket at home, forcing him to roll the sleeves of his white shirt up — he didn’t show it. his expression stayed indifferent, face as stoic as ever as he stayed right where he was.

he hadn’t smiled back, only having opted to raise his glass while his unoccupied hand was shoved into the pocket of his slacks. he probably had no idea how mouth-watering that sight was to you. you nearly felt your thighs clenching together out of instinct.

your friends started picking up on where your glance and attention had been wandering to, which followed by them trying to force you to strike up a conversation with him. you didn’t see any reason for it, taking his lack of action after your first step as a sign of disinterest.

however, when you approached the bar by yourself to order one more drink for yourself, the bartender told you it had already been paid for.

“who?” you questioned, which made the woman behind the bar shoot you a grin. “handsome guy in a suit,” was her curt response before she walked off to tend to other drunkards.

you weren’t very slick, so the first thing you did was whip your head to where he had been standing the entire time.

he was already looking at you.

you couldn’t help but start sweating even more than before when he started to approach you. his facial expression didn’t look awfully friendly, so you highly doubted he was going to talk to you.

but he did.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

“there are some things i forgot in the heat of the moment, but one of the things i can still remember very clearly — apart from the night we both shared together — was how respectful you were.”

neither of you two realized how much time had passed. your friends were forgotten, feeling like leaving you to hiromi wouldn’t be a bad idea as you had been in need of good male company for quite a long time.

alas, a good fuck.

you didn’t drink much more alcohol after that, equally agreeing that the atmosphere was too good to ruin it with unserious giggling and staggering. alcohol had to be one of the main causes of people fucking up things.

it was amazing how higuruma made you feel attached to the conversation despite his voiced displeasure for his job and the entire sector he worked at. what he worked as, he didn’t make clear. which made the entire conversation even more interesting.

it had been his dream to practice justice, he’d told you, but he quickly found out that it wasn’t possible during times like these. it actually saddened you to hear that.

“i’m sure you’re still incredible at your job,” you smiled at him, eyes never leaving his. there was something about him that made you feel stupidly attracted to him.

you felt like a horny teenager glancing at his features, imagining how good you’d feel under him—

a surprised sound was drawn from your lips as an arm was suddenly draped around your waist, pulling you closer to the tall lawyer. one glance to your right told you that someone had approached the bar and stepped too close to you.

the protective aura he exuded sent a tingle straight to your south. and the alcohol you had consumed the entire night helped you voice it.

you found yourself looking at hiromi whose thick eyebrows went up at the words that had spilled from your lips. “i’m afraid i missed what you just said,” he muttered, hand leaving your body when the danger was gone. you didn’t miss the way he put the previous distance between your bodies again.

now that was a man worthy to be between your legs.

so instead of chickening out, you repeated what he allegedly hadn’t heard.

“i said, i want you to fuck me.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

“i never had a man treat me so respectfully. i never thought it was a thing for a man to be nice. sounds stupid, right?”

it didn’t take long for both of you to arrive at your place that wasn’t too far away, thankfully so, because you could barely contain yourself from pouncing on the poor man.

he had a lot more self-control than you had, but the moment you unlocked the door to your apartment, he urged you inside gently to push you against the nearest wall.

“are you sure about this?” staring deeply into your eyes as he questioned your needs, higuruma could tell you weren’t drunk. so was he. you were both totally logical about this.

already kicking off your heels, you pulled him down to your height by his tie. “stop asking,” you panted, licking your lips as your heartbeat quickened with your overwhelming desire.

it was him who closed the gap between you two, soft lips molding together in a heated kiss as your hands wandered to his face, finding his defined cheekbones and the slightest stubble on his pointed chin.

hiromi’s large palms firmly squeezed your hips, staying respectfully distant from your other regions. you whined into the kiss at how needy his touches made you.

“hiromi… take off my dress,” you broke the kiss as you both gasped for air, and a deep hum left his lips when you turned around, exposing the zipper of the dress below your nape.

a shuddered breath was drawn from your mouth when his warm fingertips ghosted over the bare skin on your neck to brush your hair aside, making you choke in surprise when he tugged at it, forcing your neck to strain.

“i couldn’t quite hear you, love.” his moist lips ghosted over the shell of your ear and you bit your lower lip. “what do you say when you want someone to do something for you?”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

“the only thing i could think of was how good of a partner you’d be to me. even if it was the worst timing to be thinking about that, considering i was… under you.”

it didn’t matter at this point if you had five or a hundred bodies before hiromi. because one thing was for certain.

he would remain the best fuck of your life till the end of your days.

it wasn’t just the sheer size and girth that was stretching you so painfully deliciously, but also the skill and perfection he put into every and each of his thrusts.

for a man as lethargic as him, he made sure to put all of his energy into fucking you. he didn’t ask you to move a muscle, and all you did was take the pounding he granted you with your face smushed into your pillow and your ass up.

you were lucky your moans were muffled by the fabric of your pillow, because with how good he was hitting all of the spots inside of you, you were sobbing into it. it would have been embarrassing, considering all the sounds he produced was when his hips met your ass, the squelching of when his thick cock entered and left your sopping pussy, and the grunts that left his lips.

hiromi was a sexy man. you were glad you weren’t facing him, because you were sure you’d have fallen in love with him.

“inside, please—”

you choked back a sob when higuruma slowed down, stilling his movements and catching his breath as he forced your back against his lean, muscled torso. “you want me to cum inside?” you nodded pathetically as you squirmed, moving your hips in despair to grant yourself the satisfaction you had gotten used to.

hiromi’s eyes met yours when he pressed your head against his broad shoulder with the help of a hand against your throat for leverage, and you were sure it wasn’t just your pussy throbbing at that.

you felt pathetic for cumming from only a single glance without him even moving. but at least it made him empty himself inside of you.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

“i wasn’t thinking about it too much, but i thought that when i’d wake up, you would still be there. even if it was just a one-night-stand.”

it was inevitable for you to pass out once you two were done. the rays of sunlight that shone through your curtains were what woke you up as you cracked your eye open to get to your senses.

you were bare beneath the covers, but you were cleaned up. the thought of hiromi haven taken care of you made your insides tingle, and your eyes flew to the other side of the bed.

except, he was not there anymore. it was as if he’d never been there. he didn’t leave a single trace. and to deepen your disappointment, he hadn’t left his number or anything else for you to contact him.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

“you have no idea how many times i visited that bar afterwards in hopes of meeting you again.”

one glance at the bartender already told her what you had came for again. the nth time in months. at this point, she could only sigh and shake her head in pity.

“okay. this is the last time i’ve asked. promise,” you grunted. she just quirked a brow while handing you a shot. you looked like you needed it.

“you said that weeks ago.”

she was right. why the hell couldn’t you just let go?

you knew it wasn’t the sex. sure, it was mind-blowing… way more than just that. it was the desire to build a deeper connection with him. hooking up with that man wasn’t a mistake by any means…. but maybe that’s what made him disappear from the surface of the earth.

perhaps he thought you were too easy.

“hey, have you heard of this show?” the bartender was standing in front of you again, and you shook your head, unenthusiastic about what she was going to tell you. “apparently, it even brings people together who have been seperated for ages. maybe you could give it a try.”

now this piqued your interest. the width of your eyes was ridiculous, like one of a lovesick fool, which in a sense, you were.

“what’s the name of the show?”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

“i just wanted to know if what we had was just a night of lust, or if it could have been more. that’s all i wanted.”

after sending the letter to said address of TO ALL THE MEN YOU’VE LOVED BEFORE, you were too anxious to approach your tv or any type of social media. too scared of getting an answer you weren’t going to like.

the evening of the airing where your letter was featured came and went by, but nothing happened. it wasn’t until the next few days that you realized: although you didn’t like this answer — which was none — it was the reality. it wasn’t what you wanted, but what you needed nonetheless.

now, you were ready to move on.

or, not so much. you were slumped on the barstool, staring into your drink as the jazz music playing in the background added even more to your sentimental state hours later. tonight was doomed to be terrible when you found out that the bartender was on holidays for a week, which meant you’d be on your own with your stupid thoughts.

not quite paying any attention to the silhouette sitting down on the stool next to you, your nose took a whiff of a familiar cologne. it wasn’t every day you smelled that unique men’s perfume, but perhaps it was just a coincidence—

“i got your letter.”

glancing to your right, you sighted hiromi there in all of his glory. seeing him didn’t make you choke on your spit and splutter dramatically like it happened in movies. you were frozen in your spot.

“i didn’t watch the airing. i don’t like watching shows like that.”

you stirred the half-melted glass cubes in your drink, making them clink against each other as you remained silent. if this wasn’t the road to rejection…

“what were you hoping for by sending that letter? what exactly was your intention?”

setting your glass down on the counter, you finally faced the man fully, both of your expressions deadpan. was he being serious?

“are you a lawyer or something like that?”

he paused, looking genuinely impressed at your guess as his thick brows quirked up, before a rough and husky chuckle left his lips. “what gave it away?”

“seemed like you were interviewing your client before court or something,” you laughed, “but what were you hoping for coming here today? you knew i would be here, considering you read the letter.”

hiromi leaned forward as his dark hues took in your features. he looked just as handsome as you remembered, although it had been no longer than a few months. it sure felt like forever, though.

a lopsided smile crept onto his lips as he stood up, towering over your frame. he raised a large hand to hold it out to you, which made you look at it dumbly.

“i was wondering if i could get to know said client a little better,” he murmured. a stupid grin stretched on your painted lips. “in a more formal setting, perhaps. how about dinner?”

“i’d love that, counsellor.”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

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stararch4ngelqueen · 1 year ago

Note

Heyy! Hope all is well!

Can I request Jason with a Shy! Reader but freaky reader? She prefers not to socialize with others that much BUT WHEN ITS JUST HER AND JASON ALL ALONE??

She’s quite literally snatching the soul from his body (got him seeing stars and the Lazarus pit all over again)

Of course, remember to take care of yourself!

-🥔 anon

This inspired me to do a little something based off a trope. The trope being “well-read girls know how to do it well.” This isn’t completely freaky, but you go for a ride. That’s all that matters.

Not fully smutty, but not sfw by any means.

—

Time Written - 1:16 a.m

You were the epitome of bookshop attendee when he visited a new said corner store one day, wearing cute blue light glasses as you typed away at your computer, nursing a warm latte from the next door cafe.

The prime example of cheesy first time meeting via you unable to reach a book you wanted off what Jason accidentally assumed was a horror shelf category. A unique, interesting read Jason politely snatched for you, taking in your thankful, flustered smile as fingertips brushed against eachother.

One of the most interesting compliments Jason got about his relationship with you had come from Barbara at first, who said he was an incredibly lucky guy to find someone so sweet and good natured.

Dick wasn’t aware Jason even had a girlfriend until Babs brought it up around eight months into the relationship, when you and Jason were certain it was getting quite serious.

He met you twice when coming over into your shared living space, greeting you with simple handshakes and minor conversation, though nothing note worthy. Dick thought you were awkward, plain and simple, cute to look at for sure though.

He didn’t know you were Jason’s type, though he never really put thought to what he looked for in a woman. A why, little bookworm introvert going for Red Hood?

Why didn’t he think of that sooner?

He’d never seen Jason sport such a goofy smile on his face every time he saw the two of you talking together on the side. Whatever made the broody man happy was all that mattered.

You met Bruce Wayne when he insisted Jason brought his mysterious plus one to the approaching gala that very Friday night.

A grand room full of high class people flaunting their wealth wasn’t in your list of experiences you wanted to have, and Jason didn’t blame you. All you could muster was an hour of full face makeup, pretty hair and an expensive dress to meet the main man himself, forming some small, respective conversation before murmuring to Jason that you wanted to leave.

He was glad you asked, he wanted to go home the second the two of you arrived.

Coming home to a quiet, calm environment was always something the two of you looked forward to. Just a safe space where you could be yourselves around one another, caring little for any judgements the universe threw at you.

Jason lounged on the couch back in the respective privacy of your shared apartment, his dress shirt opened a few buttons with his coat draped over the kitchen chair. His disinterested gaze was stuck on the television, mindlessly flipping through channels as he waited for his turn for the shower.

“Last night wasn’t too much for ya, was it?” Jason expressed with concern after he hears the bathroom door open down the short hallway.

“Believe me, old man always wants me to go to those parties. Hate it every damn time.” He turns his head, eyes slightly widening at your approach towards the couch. You were out of that gorgeous dress, your body comfortable in one of his old shirts. You could wear trash bags or a damn potato sack and pull it off like one of those magazine cover models.

With a blush coating those pretty cheeks, your body blocks his view from the television, bare feet softly scooting against soft carpet. Bracing your hands along the couch, you then proceeded to sit yourself ontop of Jason’s lap, nestling your knees along the cushions.

You held a certain giddiness about you as if you’ve drank a few glasses of champagne, though no alcohol touched your lips the entire hour you were at the event.

He emits a soft grunt, his right arm wrapping around your back in order to hold you close. He can’t help but smile up at you, taking in the sweet scent of your body wash and lotion.

“Something you want, pretty girl?” He casually asks, his voice soft and husky with a hint of that playful tone he reserves only for you.

In response, your hands spread out along his chest, trailing down the maroon fabric of his pressed shirt, fiddling with some loose buttons along his collar.

“You know what I want, Jason.”

“Do I?” He asks, cocking his head to the side.

His voice grew a little more teasing now, knowing that look in your eye quite well. He knew what you wanted, but he liked when you vocalized it. He liked that in a woman, knowing exactly what she wants.

“Enlighten me.”

You pout at first, pursing those supple lips before your teasing fingers proceed do undo one of his shirt buttons. Then another, and another.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” He asks again, moving his hand down from the small of your back to your hip, rubbing along the smooth skin.

“You know what I want, Jay,” You insist, proceeding to grow bold enough to shift your hips a bit, slowly rocking once against his lap.

Jason lets out a low noise from the gesture, taking a slow breath through his nose. You had on no shorts underneath your shirt, completely lacking those pretty, lacy panties you had worn under your dress. With the slightest movement, Jason could feel nothing but bare, soft skin, making the warm ache in his lower abdomen grow into a bright burn.

“You’re such a brat,” he mumbles, giving your hip a firm squeeze. “I swear.”

“A brat??” You nearly laugh, bracing both hands on his chest. “That’s meaaan.”

“Oh please,” Jason scoffs, his voice thick with amusement. “Don’t start with that whining, now. It’s not that mean.“

Without any warning, he hoists both of you up from the couch, keeping your legs secured around his waist.

A short surprise laugh left you as you scrabble to cling onto him, maintaining the short distance between the living room couch and the soft, unmade sheets of his bed.

“Why are you being so bratty, huh?” Jason questions after setting you down, catching those tits bounce under your shirt from the impact of your fall. He barely had time to catch sight of your eager little cunt before you purposely fold your legs, focused eyes watching your persistent fingers reach for his belt, eagerly unsecuring the buckle.

“Cause I can be,” You promptly sit up, not bothering to yank the loosened belt out of the loops.

“And you said it yourself. You like it.” You lustfully add, watching his teal eyes flutter closed, hearing the faint crunch of the sheets rustle in your ears as both his hands clutch fistfuls of fabric.

To further emphasize, you unfold your legs, promptly securing them beside his waist, further tempting him on such a sweet, irresistible offer.

Jason groans, tilting his head back a bit as he decides on his limited options. He was tired, wanting to take a hot shower and cuddle his sweetheart to rest.

On the other hand—

“I like a lot of things you do, princess. This just happens to be one of them.” His smile grows with his words as you lean up to kiss along his jaw, having him cradle your chin in between two fingers to properly kiss those rosy lips.

“You remind me of a little gremlin when you’re like this,” he murmurs. “Or just a greedy, spoiled little princess.”

“And you wanna fuck your princess, don’t you?” You tease, kissing him once more to spare a small nibble along his bottom lip, making him groan yet again in defeat.

Yes. He does want you, and you know damn well that you have him where you wanted him. There would be no way that he could say no to you.

And why isn’t he able to say ‘no’ to this girl? He should have a little more self-control than this.

His minor moment of being left speechless proved that, making him roll his eyes.

“You’re really are a little brat,” he laughs quietly, choosing to tease you regardless, looking forward to that quirk in your brow shortly after.

Realistically, if this was any other human being or meta monster of some kind, no way in heaven or hell would he get allow someone to willingly put him on his back. It’s a breach of vulnerability, of submission in his mind.

You weren’t anyone by any means, those soft hands grasping along his broad shoulders, using what strength you had to lean him onto the mattress space beside you, cushioning yourself once more on the gracious seat of his plush thighs once more.

Trust was a huge stability in this scenario, one built upon hours of heartfelt discussions on boundaries and healthy behaviors, sharing what the both of you liked and didn’t.

It was endearing to know he had your full trust to grow more comfortable, encased in each confident kiss you gave him while he reaches up to cradle your head, fingers deeply interlaced in locks of shower damp hair.

Jason’s hands slip up under your shirt as he holds you close, squeezing along your ass before pushing your hips down against himself, firmly rocking up against your sopping core to get a sweet whimper out of you.

His other hand worked under your shirt, squeezing along your tender breasts, pinching your nipples to draw out those eager little whines. A mere ounce of payback for your torturous actions.

“You know you could just ask, right?” He chided with a smirk, proceeding to do the work for you by unbuttoning his pants, hastily pulling the zipper down.

Your hands work to free his eager cock from his boxers, biting your bottom lip in excitement to feel his heavy girth in your palms.

Of course, there’s many chances you would have just been able to ask in this moment and in this position. You knew that.

Your middle finger trailed along the smooth tip, wiping off a fat bead of precum that came close to dripping down the side, bringing it to your mouth to graze it along the tip of your tongue.

“I know.”

Teasing him was just a whole lot more fun.

Raising your hips a bit, you rest yourself over the underside of his cock, rocking yourself back and forth. The sting of blunt nails soon irritated your hips, Jason’s impatience peeking through as he feels himself grow soaked with your juices. The tip bumping deliciously against your throbbing little clit.

He makes the tiniest noise as you take the reins, but it just fuels your desire to ‘ruin’ him even more. Once you had started, there’s not much of a chance he has to stay in control.

Important of all, out of all qualities he adored of you, he thrived on your incredibly sweet mouth, like fresh cherry juice seeping through warm, crystallized sugar crust holding in the compote.

Jason loved the tart bitterness of your sassy nature, your ability to talk back during those start moments where it mattered most.

He couldn’t ask for more, really.

His head cranes back, grunting in delicious euphoria of your wet walls perfectly clenching around his cock after mere minutes of torture, feeling like hours. You’ve never been so wet, needing more prep than this before he could even stuff himself halfway through your walls.

Your body accepted him easier, eagerly taking in every inch as you bounce yourself on his cock, squeezing your own breasts as you moan in complete ecstasy, feeling him kissing your sweet spot each time.

Jason could only marvel and admire the beauty above him, his own chest slowly heaving from the sight. The way your hips moved was like art, your back arching like a flower stalk in the breeze, your lips crying out the sweetest of music.

You were gorgeous, where Jason was impatient. There was little time before his hold on you reinforced, his legs bracing along the mattress before he takes the lead, moaning out himself as he thoroughly fucks the girl that got them into this mess. A constant staccato of clinking from his belt accompanied the relentless pounding of his heavy, full balls against your ass.

The rest of his shirt would be ripped open with broken buttons hanging by severed threads done by impatient hands. Manicured nails scratching across every scar down his chest, inventing new ones after every climax you had, his cum coating your gushy walls white.

His neck would be doused in love bites the size of rose petals, matching similar to the bruises that will show up around your waist come morning.

Jason Todd was incredibly fucking lucky indeed, since the second he unawaringly snatched a rather tasteful romance novel for you at the book store.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x fem!reader #dc jason todd #jason todd x y/n #jason todd dc #jason todd x reader smut #gotham knights jason todd #jason todd gotham knights #jason todd x #jason todd smut #I mean #it’s something yk

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8ttached · 1 year ago

Text

"she's a real gem huh?"

pairings - (possessive) Fontaine x blk reader

warnings - (18+ smut, minors dni!!) not proof read, car sex (dont know if I would consider this as public sex since it's in an empty parking lot but you have been warned!!), aave, use of the n word, make-up sex

authors note - heyy I've been so caught up with other shit that i almost forgot about Tumblr but i finally whipped something up after weeks of writers block but i hope you guys enjoy!!!

word count - 946

(reblogs and comments are most definitely appreciated!! )

possessive Fontaine

You always knew Fontaine was the possessive type. Not the loud “yells at anyone who stares at you” kind of possessive. But the “I know I'm lucky” possessive. The type to plant hickeys all over your neck for other niggas to see when they're talking to you. he gets a kick outta the ones who stare at them for too long

You were at the bar with yoyo and slick. Fontaine decided not to go since in his words “he got other shit to do.” your main plan was to stick together incase some weird shit happens but after a few drinks that plan was dropped. Yoyo was dancing while slick was god knows where and now you’re chopping it up with some nigga that claimed to “know you from way back.”

“Yeah, you haven't changed a bit! Same eyes as your mama” the older man said. You laughed nervously as you looked around the atmosphere. The guy began to compliment you again and again. Comments like “you look just like ya mama” and “you've gotten so grown” made your skin crawl.

You look at your phone checking the time, but you ended up seeing missed calls from Fontaine. not just one, but Multiple. You looked around looking for Yoyo and slick knowing that if Fontaine called multiple times, it was something serious.

The older man's words suddenly turned into mumbles as you looked around seeing Slick and Yoyo nowhere in sight. You look down at your phone worried as you start to call Fontaine but something stops you. The older male said something as you weren't paying attention and a tall broad man stood behind you.

“Yeah, she's a real gem huh?” he agreed.

The dark male's voice sent chills down your spine causing you to turn your shoulders, face to face with your boyfriend. Fontaine didn't say anything to you. His low-lidded eyes said more than enough. As you walked outside you remembered Slick and Yoyo were still in the club. Or so you thought.

“What about yoyo and-”

“They left.”

Fontaine didn't look at you. His hands in his pockets, eye facing straight ahead, it all worried you. But what worried you most was Yoyo and Slick leaving you at the club knowing what could have happened. Especially with the weirdo you were talking to.

You both get into his car. As you look down on your lap you feel a heavy shake from Fontaines side of the car. You smack your thick lips. “Damn nigga you ain't needa slam the door that hard.” but he didn't say anything, let alone look at you. He was giving you the cold shoulder.

“..taine” cold shoulder again. You sigh deeply. The car ride home was quiet

Fontaine set the car to park and took his key out the car. Before he could open the door you grab his shoulder. “Fuck you touching me for?’ he mumbles. “Fontaine it wasn't what it looked like” Your hand laid on his shoulder. “So you at the bar flirting to some older nigga wasn't what it looked like?” he turns to you, his grills shining as his nose turns up in irritation. “No, it wasn't! And you know I wouldn't do that shit to you” your voice cracked. You didn't want Fontaine to be worried about you. You were a big girl and you didn't need some hood nigga taking care of you, but you also didn't want him to think you were someone to share around. “Then what was it?”

You ended up telling him everything that happened. From the plan, to the creepy comments. You made sure to lay everything onto the table.

“Why didn't you say shit at the club?” he sighs looking straight at the driver's wheel as he sucked his teeth. “ ‘cus I know you taine and ion need that type of attention on me.” your eyes stuck at your dress. “That dress giving you every type of attention” Your boyfriend examines your short dress with a deep breath and hand rubbing his beard. He thought you looked jaw dropping but knowing Fontaine, he wasn't gonna let you see him fold so quickly, especially after what just happened. What’d you expect? He's stubborn. You smile, “Whatchu meannnn..” you laugh as you cross your hands, looking at him from the side.

And like that, flirting quickly turned to fucking.

Fontaine's rough hands groping your titties, ass, and hips time and time again. His name leaves your thick lips over and over again. the car windows steaming with warm breaths of ecstasy.

“Ion won't no other nigga looking at you” Fontaine groins. “ion care if yo ass was green, don't no nigga need to be laying they eye on what's mine.” you nod, too breathless, too caught up with with the feeling of Fontaine's hands rubbing that spot on your clit. ‘I'm all yours taine” you finally sigh. Your legs shaking as you finally came. But the rhythm of Fontaine's hips continued. His hands gripping your ass as his head lays back.

“Fontaine, i cant..” you hold his arm. ‘I know baby i know, just relax mama m’kay?” you nod lightly laying yourself on his chest. Your warm breath on his neck. “Where you want it baby?” Fontaine's raspy voice asked. You were so fucked out of it, you couldn't let out coherent words. “In…side..” you moaned as Fontaine came inside you.

“You got it all on my dress!” you yelled out quietly as Fontaine grabbed the house keys. “That’ll show dem weird niggas ya already fucking with someone.” you notice his grin from the side which made you smile.

He really made you feel like a gem tonight.

#they cloned tyrone #fontaine #tct #black reader #john boyega #fontaine x black reader #fontaine x reader #fontaine smut #they cloned tyrone x reader #black reader smut #black reader fan fiction

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itskybabes-blog · 5 months ago

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Duke Dennis Drabble

Duke Dennis x fem!reader (no face claim but poc!reader friendly)

Part two: The Confession

Disclaimer: this is written by a dyslexic person – please forgive any grammar and spelling errors

TW: swearing, drinking and using derogatory language

Plot: After your big night at an AMP pool part (that you probs won’t remember tomorrow), you finally let your lil’ secret slip.

Word count: 672

ICYMI: part one

“What the fuck am I doing?” You slurred back in confusion. “What the fuck are you doing?”

You rise up from the bed and try to point your finger at him, but stumble forward because you was unaware of your own strength. Duke has to catch you before your pearly whites were scattered all over his floor.

“See, man,” Duke whines with you in his arms, “this is what I’m talking about”.

You move out his arms and squint your eyes at him, trying to focus on all three of him at once.

“Y/N, you can’t stand up straight. You got yourself stupid drunk and started twerking on everyone. Your nipple was fucking hanging out like you’s some fucking whore or sum,” Duke rants.

“Whore?!” – you sober up real quick – “You’re calling me a whore?” you exclaim back, shoving finger quotation marks in his face.

“Meanwhile, you’re here, throwing this stupid party full of thirsty clout-chasing bimbos who only wanna suck your dick, get your Ps and cut! Fucking lodging your tongue down some random girl’s face – you’d be lucky to not have herpes, right now!” You lay into him, using whatever left over competence you have. Dutch courage is certainly real.

“Whore?” You said again, this time with a soft chuckle - which we all know is not good. Duke knows you found nothing funny but couldn’t care because “you’re a fucking embarrassment!”

“Oh my fucking gosh, more fucking names,” you said with a dramatic sigh. You begin to pace around: “What else am I? A slut? A bitch? What else am I, Duke? Tell me!”

You end up in a couple centimetres away from Duke with a face full of fire and push him weakly (pathetically) away from her. His look of disgust softens – maybe he was being a little harsh.

So, he takes the punk move: “You know what, I don’t care. This is not even worth it, man. Fucking drunk!”

That one snapped a heartstring. Duke’s back faces you as he had his hand on the knob.

“You don’t care? You never cared about me, did you?” You come back at him.

“What?” He looked back, utterly confused you’d ever say that.

“You never fucking cared. I’m meant to be someone special to you – your best friend – and you only ever want me around when you don’t have a fuck buddy around. When you need a girl to make you look good when your hotline hoe ain’t picking up,” you start to spew some of your deep feelings.

Duke lets go of the handle and leans against the door. “Y/N, I-“

“You don’t fucking care about me. I fucking hop on a 2-hour flight weekly to see your ass and look all pretty for your stream. Then, you kick me out to entertain a next bitch, passing me off to the rest of the bros like I’m some community hoe. You never fucking cared about me. You never fucking did. You-“

“Are you jealous?” Duke saunters back to you, grinning. His diamond grill playing tricks with your hooded eyes.

“Huh? Where you get that from?” You feel your cheeks burn, turning your head to the side.

“As a friend, you care too much about my roster,” Duke tries to explain. He drops his head to try and make you look him in the eye, but you keep avoiding his accusatory gaze.

“You talking like we fucking or sum,” Duke continues to press you.

“Why would I want you, like, what? Like, that’s- Ha! Ewwww,” you try to act repulsed but you never got an A in drama. Your acting skills are subpar.

“Oh, OK. Just know: I’d drop my roster just for you.”

Your head whips around and look Duke square in his face. A goofy and toothy smile plasters across his face.

“You fucking play too fucking much. You can’t be trying to tease me and shit. Why would I fucking want you? You never cared about me before, why the fuck no-“ Duke’s pillowy lips press intensely on yours.

“Girl, shut up.”

“Yes, sir.”

A/N: here’s the second part! Now, I really hate writing smut so pls forgive me but I’m skipping over that. Pls enjoy this quick update :)

#duke dennis x poc!reader #duke dennis x reader #duke dennis #amp x reader #amp #kai cenat #fanum tax #black!reader #agent00 #chrisnextdoor #imdavisss #twitch streamer #twitch #streamer x reader

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apomaro-mellow · 9 months ago

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King and Prince 16

Part 15

El and Max recognized Eddie, even under the hood as he kept his head low. His music was too familiar for him to be anyone else. A few others in the crowd had their suspicions, but knowing their mischievous king could change his form, most didn’t think much of it. Either it wasn’t him and was simply another musician. Or it was and he had come down to grace the people with his presence. Either way, they loved it enough to dance with it.

El clapped her hands and then grabbed one of Steve’s to pull him into the crowd of dancers. Steve couldn’t remember the last time he danced. It had to have been years. As he got older, his parents warned him against making a fool of himself in public and that included dancing. His steps were unpracticed but when he looked at El’s jubilant face, it didn’t really matter. Max was clapping her hands from the side and in Steve’s eyes that just wouldn’t do.

He grabbed her hand too and pulled her in too, twirling them both as they laughed along. It was freeing, just being able to laugh and dance like this. El took both of Max’s hands to lead her in their own dance. Steve was about to fade to the side just to watch when he felt a poke at his shoulder. When he turned, there was a beautiful young lady there, offering her hand. Without a second thought, Steve took it and joined her in another dance.

He missed this, he realized. Having another body so close. Even the kids, he kept at a distance. But this had him remembering what it was like, just being with someone so near and neither meaning to hurt each other.

When the song switched up, Steve found himself with another partner, this one a young man and much more bold with his touches. They lingered as much was decent in public but Steve got the message clear. For the first time in a while, Steve wondered if he could get away for a quick moment.

But then, the song was over and people were clapping. The man was still gazing at Steve as he gave his name.

“What’s yours?”, he asked.

Steve’s voice was caught in his throat, trying to think of what to say. His name wasn’t uncommon but how much should he say? He was saved from having to answer by the girls grabbing his elbows and pulling him away. Still, a part of him wondered if it could’ve gone further. What could have happened? Would he see him later?

When lunch time came, they met back up with the boys to eat. Steve didn’t realize how hungry he was from all the games until the first bite passed his lips. He was so busy making sure the kids didn’t mess up their own clothes, that he ended up getting a couple of stains on him. He led the kids to go and see the illusionist and then left to get himself cleaned up a little.

“Made a bit of a mess, didn’t you little prince?”

Steve stiffened at that voice and turned to see the red hood from before. He didn’t know why he didn’t catch on sooner. “It’s you…”

Eddie lifted the hood just a bit. “That it is.” He looked Steve up and down. “Follow me.”

Steve watched as Eddie walked into a dress shop. He looked around to see if anyone else noticed the presence of royalty, but no one was looking their way. He went inside and saw it was more of a general tailor’s. Eddie went to the counter and leaned forward, putting his hands on it.

“Were you able to finish it in time, dear friend?”, Eddie asked as he lowered his hood.

“A rush job outfit with very little input to the customer’s measurements. You’re lucky I took it on in the first place.” The tailor herself was a middle aged woman and Steve wondered if she knew she was talking to the king.

Eddie beckoned Steve over and they were led into a dressing room. Hanging there was something in a lovely dark green. Unable to help himself, Steve reached out to touch the material. So fine.

“Do you uh, like it?”, Eddie asked.

If Steve didn’t know any better, he might think the man was nervous. A previous version of him would have set that target and drawn to attack but…well he wasn’t that sort of person anymore, was he?

“It’s a very handsome garment. Are you wearing it for later?” Seeing the king in green would be quite the change from the reds and blacks he was known for.

“Actually… it’s for you.”

Steve turned his gaze from the clothing to Eddie and saw him looking…it was odd to say but he looked bashful. Like he was anxious about whether or not Steve would appreciate the gift. And that’s what this was, wasn’t it? A gift.

“You had this made for me?”

“Only if you want it. I mean, I didn’t even ask if you liked green and the madame was right, I wasn’t able to give your measurements, so it might not fit, but I thought you’d want-I don’t know why I was thinking about what you want but-”

“Your Majesty”, Steve cut him off. “I like it.” He did. Very much. “Can I change into it now?”

“Y-yeah, yes, of course. I’ll um, I’ll just give you some privacy”, Eddie said, stepping backwards. “Unless you think you’d need some help”, he chuckled.

“Well, normally…”, Steve said as he started to undress. “I’d have a servant attending to me. But I can’t very well as a king to assist.”

Eddie already eschewed social norms and was already forgetting why Steve would have an issue with him helping out. He just knew, somehow, that doing so would be crossing a line that neither of them were ready for. But looking at Steve’s bare back made it easy to forget.

“I’ll just wait outside then!”, he said quickly, making his escape.

Steve couldn’t help but smile to himself. Today had been a day of rediscovery. He still had the looks and charm to turn heads. It also seemed like the king himself wasn’t immune to those charms but Steve was trying not to think too hard about that. He got dressed, shedding the bland colors with stains for something more vibrant. More him.

“I’ve got to go and get ready for the show”, Eddie said from beyond the door. “I’ll wrangle the little ones. I’ll see you there, okay?”

Steve answered in the affirmative, taking his time to make sure the outfit looked right. There wasn’t a mirror in here, so hopefully the tailor had one so he could look himself over before going out in public.

Meanwhile, Eddie was having not a crisis. It wasn’t that serious, definitely not. But he was definitely thinking a lot of things as he made his way to the grand stage. He nodded to the elderly, those that knew him when they saw him. He had to focus. He’d be playing to a larger crowd soon and he couldn’t think of Steve. At least, not in the way his mind was trying to make him think. Eddie wasn’t blind.

He knew Steve was handsome, objectively. But today was the first time he got to see that charisma in action. He had watched as Steve impressed the crowds at the games. And then later when he enthralled others to dance. His expression had been so…free. Free and happy and with none of the stress or worry or hatred that Eddie had been used to seeing on him.

Eddie found the children and told them that Steve would be along later. At the stage, their instruments had arrived and each of them took some time to prepare. When it was set to begin, Eddie shed his red cloak and stepped onto the stage to applause. These were his people, who he loved and adored. Folks that were either born here and trusted him with their lives or who had had nowhere else to go and came here for refuge.

As their ruler, he would give them anything. Thankfully, all they required right now was some entertainment. So he introduced his wards and they took to the stage to play. Eddie was so proud of the work they put in and how good they sounded together. There were still a couple of slip ups but nothing an audience pouring on their adoration would notice. And Eddie was too euphoric to even dwell on it right now.

As the song finished, Eddie’s eyes went over the crowd and he saw a beacon of green. Steve, looking fetching in his new clothing. The kids took a bow and then exited the stage, leaving Eddie by himself.

“Good evening to you all”, Eddie greeted, letting his voice boom over the crowd. “You’ve worked hard all fall and had to hide away for most of winter. Now is the time for freedom and frolicking!”

“And fucking!”, someone from the audience shouted.

“And a healthy dose of loving on one another, yes”, Eddie humored. “But as we say goodbye to the cold, I want us to remember that winter is not to be hated or abhorred. It is just as necessary for our lives as is the other seasons.”

Winter was when the demobeasts were most active. It was the coldest part of the year and the darkest. It was a time for humans to huddle up for warmth and appreciate each other. The last thing Eddie wanted was for anyone to associate winter with bad things. He smiled at his people as he strummed again, starting a traditional song. One his people knew well.

One that Steve was surprised that he knew.

The melody started off slow and somber, representing winter. And Eddie looked like winter incarnate with his dark colors and the way his hair framed his face. The crowd started to sing and Steve joined along without even thinking. The song was about winter falling asleep and giving way to spring, like two old friends crossing paths, catching up before parting ways again.

It brought back memories of singing the same song back home, with his own subjects. How could two different places share the same song? Well, he could also ask how winter and spring could be friends when they were so different. When the song finished, Steve watched as Eddie looked on the crowd with what could only be called adoration.

Steve was realizing that Eddie was different from his father. He loved his people and the feeling was mutual. Steve’s father only cared about subjugation, from his subjects and his family. Eddie introduced other musical acts, artists who had played on the street earlier now got a chance in the spotlight.

Day officially gave way to night and Eddie joined back up with Steve, hood on and children in tow.

“Time for these puppies to return to the litter. But as an adult, you do not have a curfew, little prince.”

The suggestion was obvious. Eddie was allowing him the freedom to explore on his own. Even though he had enjoyed himself all day, Steve wasn’t sure how he would even go about it. Did he tell people his real name? Anything true about himself? Would they be as welcoming if they knew who he was?

“I think I’m ready for a hot bath and a soft bed”, he said. “Some of us actually worked up a sweat today.”

“Yeah, but you totally dominated the games!”, Dustin exclaimed before letting out a yawn.

Lucas nodded. “It was awesome. You should’ve seen it, Eddie.”

“Oh I’ve got eyes everywhere”, Eddie said. “And I caught a little glimpse of his feats.”

“What do you mean you have eyes everywhere?”, Steve asked with a brow raised.

“He means exactly what he said”, Max said.

A bird landed on Eddie’s shoulder and he scritched its head. “You know I can see through the eyes of different beasties. I can transform into them too. Anytime I need eyes in the sky or on the ground and can’t be there personally.”

Steve thought about all the times he got a visit from one of these birds. He assumed they were all the same bird but were they different? Were some of them Eddie? Steve considered being indignant, or even outraged. But it wasn’t like the ravens ever saw something he didn’t want them to see.

“What’s on your mind?”, Eddie asked as they loaded onto the wagon to be taken back to the castle.

Steve grinned. “Nothing. I just had no idea the king was a peeping Tom.”

Part 17

Tag Team

@thesuninyaface @only-evanescent @snakeorsquid @ignoremyworld @theclichefortunecookie @goodolefashionedloverboi @just-a-tiny-void @0body0disphoria0 @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @samsoble @jamieweasley13 @y4r3luv @xtkxkrzrizir @un-knownperson @greekgeek24 @justdrugsformethanks @potato-of-the-lord @notaqueenakhaleesi @swimmingbirdrunningrock @queenie-ofthe-void @nebulainajar @lil-gremlin-things @nicememerino @robininblue @hornedqueenofhell @anne-bennett-cosplayer @moomkin77 @here4thetrama @bookworm0690 @autumncrocusandladybug @lil-gremlin-things @littlebluejane

#apo writes #stranger things #steddie #the party

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xdacted · 1 year ago

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The art of sibling hood

Paring: sister!Reader & Charles Leclerc

Warnings: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 3,815

Status: Complete

***Request made by reader***

Summer break offers us a sliver of peace.

No teams are calling, no coaches screaming, no clients to take care of - there is nothing but family. For a few weeks out of the year, all we have is each other. I can’t ask for anything better.

We all gather at our mother’s house, hiding away there with her. It’s nice, to all be under the same roof again, we haven’t been since Lorenzo first moved out. It only worsened when I decided to take my training to France. 16 years of living under one roof was gone in an instant. We had lived together our entire lives until that point.

It was like losing a piece of myself.

But then, after the sadness rolled away, I was filled with so much joy. To know that both Charles and Arthur were chasing their dream, to see them every weekend battling it out on the track. Though my mother refused to watch, I always did.

But there is always more I want to know, more I want to see. I can’t help myself from asking questions. The countries they see, the people they meet - it’s a world I’ll never know. I almost got involved, my father put me in karting as a child, but it was never my passion. Not the way it was with Arthur and Charles. I found my calling in school.

At six, I was sitting among my classmates in the gymnasium, watching as our instructor introduced the sport of fencing. He was trying to start a club, with a school as small as ours, it wasn’t very likely to happen.

He brandished the swords, explaining the rules. My friend, Anies, had fallen asleep on my shoulder, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away. I was transfixed, hooked. That day, I ran home, with the club papers in my hand and begged my parents.

At first, Papa was hesitant, telling me that this sport was a fighting spot - I wasn’t a ‘fighting girl’. But I pleaded, hooking my arms around his neck and staring up at him. This was my dream. Fencing was racing to me. Fencing was everything.

What I didn’t understand was that fencing was also incredibly expensive. With two children karting and one in fencing, I remember the night I caught Mum and Papa talking it over, they couldn’t afford it.

I was lucky enough to be given a scholarship by a fencing club, I would have the funding to chase my dream. Arthur, however, was not so lucky. I remember how he cried, screaming and howling into his pillow. He mourned the loss of his sport, but he was never angry. Just sad.

I shake off the memories when Charles calls my name.

“What?”

He looks at me, staring at me from his seat on the floor, arms holding his knees close to him. He and Arthur are playing some card game they explained more than once - but I have never cared to learn. Arthur glares at the cards below him, flipping them over in his hand.

He laughs, “I asked how training was going?”

“Good,” I burrow further into the couch, pulling a blanket across my shoulders, “When I go back, I have a tournament in Italy.”

“Well,” Arthur huffs, still fixed on the game, “You’re already a World Champion - Ugh! Charles, you’re cheating! This is why I hate playing with you!”

Charles throws his hands up, turning to Arthur with an indignant expression, “I am not a cheater. I am a man of honor, you just suck.”

With a curse, Arthur throws his cards down.

He stands, “You’re a cheat and you know it.”

“You just don’t know how to lose.”

Arthur throws himself beside me, moving the pillows so he can lean against them, crossing his arms in front of him. I don’t have to hide my laughter, I let it slip from me. The laughter is easy, the tension from yesterday gone. Charles had still been insistent on apologizing, even when I told him to just drop it.

My brother is one of the kindest people in the world.

“What about you?” I dare to ask, offering Arthur some of my blanket, “How’s Ferrari treating you?”

I don’t need to ask because I already know. Even from across the world, every Sunday, I watch him. Every Sunday, I watch my brother get into that car and put his life on the line. And every Sunday I watch Ferrari screw him over. My teammates were getting far too tired of my outbursts.

Charles clears his throat, looking down at the cards scattered across the floor. He sweeps them together, shuffling them, “Fine.”

“Fine?”

I’m stepping on thin ice. My brothers like to assume that when it came to racing they knew everything, but I had grown up around this. My father was a racer and now my brothers were racers - it was in my blood. I had just chosen not to pursue it.

“Yes, fine.” He pushes himself up, standing and walking to the edge of the couch.

“If you say so, brother,” Charles opens his mouth to speak, but the sound of the doorbell cuts him off.

He practically leaps over the couches, nearly tripping over the carpet, to throw the door open. My mother hardly has time to scold him as she steps inside her room because cheery voices are ringing out through the house.

“Hello!”

Lorenzo comes bounding from upstairs and Arthur rolls off the couch, kicking the blanket away from him. The three women who step inside the house bring the light of the shining sun with them.

“Girls!” I cry, it has been so long since I’ve last seen them.

Carla sees me first, throwing her hands in the air. She pushes past Arthur to sweep me into a hug. The position is awkward, as her body curves over the couch and I attempt to reach up to her, but I can feel her laughter vibrate within her chest.

“Did you get in today?” Her eyes are shining and the glasses perched atop her head threaten to fall, “Why didn’t you text me?”

“I wanted to surprise you, of course!” When we pull away, Charlotte and Alexandria are right beside us.

“We need to get breakfast while you’re here,” Charlotte says, pressing her hands together. It isn’t so much a request as it is a plan in motion.

I just nod along. I look around, my brother’s waiting behind them with crossed arms and a less-than-pleased expression.

“What?”

“They’re supposed to be here to see us.”

“No,” Charlotte says, wrapping her arms around me, “We’re here for her and of course - Pascale.”

“Hello, dear,” Mum says, Carla placing welcoming kisses on her cheeks.

I turn to my left, Alex having taken a seat in the open space that Arthur left.

“Hey,” I whisper, pulling her close.

“Hi,” She whispers back.

There’s something different. I can tell when she hugs me, pressing a kiss on my cheek. When we pull away, there’s a glow to her skin and a twinkle in her eyes.

“Is there -?”

Charles is draped across her in a second, gentle hands on her shoulders, “She is my girlfriend. Please, do not be selfish.”

Alex only rolls her eyes and I can’t help but follow.

What a drama queen.

__________

I watch Charles and Alex as Mum bustles around the kitchen. It’s little, but something is different. I can feel it. Something about the way Charles has an arm curled around her waist or the way she clings to his arm. They keep eyeing the rest of us, Alex turning around to whisper in his ear.

Hm. How strange.

Alex was quite shy, this much became evident when I first met her, but she was by no means afraid of the family. Just a few weeks earlier she had come to visit me in France, we spent the day together and had been texting each other constantly.

What could it be?

I met her eyes and she sharply turned away from me.

A secret then.

Papa liked to say that I inherited Mum’s gift for reading people, especially my brothers. Even when we’re separated by seas, I know when something’s bothering them. I know when something is wrong.

But this - this was different.

I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

But, my mind can help but wonder, what if - no. Could it be?

“Arthur.”

He hardly looks up from his phone, “Hm?”

“Wanna make a bet?”

“What kind of bet?” He asks, still scrolling.

I lean in closer, “I think Alex is pregnant.”

Arthur nearly drops his phone. He whips his head over to look at me, mouth agape, “What?!”

“Sh!” I smack his arm, he is going to give us away, “You’re so loud…”

“Why do you think she’s pregnant?” He whisper-shouts, “That’s crazy. Charles would’ve told us.”

“Maybe he’s going to tell us tonight,” I shrug, pulling away from him.

“Are you in or out?” I crossed my legs, my gut feelings were always strong. I’d guessed many things over the years and felt a change within the people around me before they told me. I’d known Charles got signed to Ferrari before he told us, or that Arthur was going to be moved to F2, or that Lorenzo had met someone new - all of these things, I’d felt. All of these things I guessed.

Maybe I was a bit psychic.

“You’re on,” He stuck his hand out, “€10?”

I scoffed, “That’s nothing - €100.”

“You could be wrong.”

“I could be right,” I looked down at his waiting hand.

“€50?”

I slapped my hand in his, “€50 it is!”

“You’re going down,” He whispered, squeezing my hand. I kick at his shin.

“Ow!”

“That’s what you get, dumbass.”

“LANGUAGE!”

__________

Dinner is an easy affair. The time ticks by slowly, but none of us mind. Warm and laughter fill the house, everyone staying at the table after the food has long been eaten. Stories are tossed around and jokes float about, it's peaceful.

A peace that’s so very addicting.

Here, I can forget that I have to leave in only a few days. I can tell that the boys forget too, throwing themselves over Mum and the table. Arthur laughs so hard that he snorts and Lorenzo’s jokes have Charles reduced to tears - it’s all so nostalgic.

As we eat, I can see Charles and Alex glance at each other, watching as he scoops her hand in his. She whispers something in his ear and he nods.

Before I know it, they are both standing.

“I,” He clears his throat, “I have something to say - well, we do, actually...”

“Well,” Alex begins, a bright smile pulling over her face, “Charles and I are expecting a - a child.”

The table erupts into cheers and exclamations. Mum drops her head into her hands, and before we can rush over, she looks up with tears in her eyes and a dazzling smile on her lips. We stand to offer them hugs and kisses, pats, and words of encouragement.

“I told you!” I cry.

Arthur lets out a loud groan, pushing his face into his hands, “Why?”

Confusion is written across their face and I can only laugh

I hold out a waiting hand.

With another groan and a roll of his eyes, he shoves his hand into his pockets, pulling out the €50 I’m owed. The bill is crunched and he drops it into my palm with little fanfare.

“This is so unfair,” Arthur throws his arms around my shoulders, “How could you have possibly known?”

“I just do,” I shrug, looking up at him with a smile, “I’m just that good.”

“I knew it,” Carla giggles, “You are a psychic.”

I lock eyes with Mum over the table, she flashes me a smile.

“Of course,” I say, “I learned from the very best.”

__________

The ocean calls our name, the lull of the tides and the crashing of the waves. Such a beautiful song and we can do nothing but dance to it. With the sun shining down on our backs, we pile into Charles’s boat, clinging to the railing as we push away from the dock. The salt of the air tangles in my hair, and gentle winds give us a beautiful day. The weather was perfect, the sea was calm. What more could we ever ask for?

We spend the day lounging about the boat, pushing and shoving each other in the water. I manage to convince Charles to let me take the smaller boat out for a spin, with Carla clinging to the seats, and Charolette cheering us on from the deck above. I can’t help but dissolve into laughter at his face, twisted with worry.

The water is cool against our heated skin, it invites us in for more. The longer we stay, the more we forget about the world that surrounds us. It is nearly enough to make me forget about my flight in only a few days. I will have to leave and this will all become a memory.

But what a beautiful memory it will be.

I can’t dwell on my thoughts, because Charlotte demands that we all jump. There is little fanfare for Charles and Lorenzo as they practically wrestle to the sea below. Arthur grips my hand as we jump, throwing ourselves into the Moncao air, caught by the arms of the sea.

It is perfect. It is home.

When the sun begins to dip in the sky, my mother draws herself up from the couch and claims that dinner will not ready itself. The others agree and begin to shuffle off but Carla and I are the last to get back from the boat. Though Charles has always held the title of ‘captain’, I have always maintained that the sea is but a little requirement for boating. We stayed behind to just lounge about in the sun, only coming back to the house when she got a frantic call from Arthur, telling her to come back.

“What’s…” The words die in our throats when we see Alex huddled in the corner, sobbing into her hands. Charlotte stands over her, rubbing a reassuring hand over her back, whispering something into her ear.

Before we can say another word, Arthur and Lorenzo interrupt us. He pulls us into a corner of the house, wiping his hands on his shorts. His eyes dart around the room, lip caught between his teeth.

“What happened?” Carla demands.

“It - it was the press,” Arthur manages, “They got pictures from earlier, on the boat.”

I need to hear little else. I dig my phone from my bag.

Finding the photo doesn’t take much work. It’s there as soon as I open Twitter, Alexandria and Charles standing on the balcony of the boat. Her hands on her stomach, nothing there to show - not yet - but the implication is enough for the media to run with.

I can hardly breathe.

Anger coils tight within me.

Fucking vultures.

Carla gasps from beside me, pressing a hand to her mouth. The headlines make my stomach turn. Far too atrocious to look at, I shove my phone back into my bag. Carla is quick to slip from beside me, rushing over to the couch, and dropping to her knees beside Alex.

Haven’t they gone through enough? Have people not thrown Alex into the fire already? Had they not already ripped her apart? I remember the articles and the tweets when their relationship went public, the look of sadness on her face. People hated her simply because she loved Charles. How they got together and why they got together was no one’s business but their own.

“Where -” I cut myself off, dropping my voice lower, “Where’s Charles?”

For a moment, Lorenzo doesn’t answer me, phone in hand. I can’t tell who’s calling, but the grave look on his face is all I need to know. He shakes his head, dragging a hand through his hair.

“He’s outside,” He whispers, sparing a look over at Alex, “He stormed out and won’t come back in.”

“Of course! He’s upset!” I hiss, this was private. This was personal. The media has taken that away from him.

Lorenzo holds his hands up, “I’m not saying he shouldn’t be - I’m not saying that I’m not,” He sighs, “But this is more - this is more than just…”

He looks away, rubbing a hand over his face, “He can’t run from this now.”

I turn away from Lorenzo and the tears begin to gather in my eyes before I can gather the courage to force them back. I wrap my arms around myself, afraid that I might throw something across the room.

This wasn’t right.

Summer is our time.

There is never any anger, never any sadness. That’s the world that waits beyond the walls of our home, that is the world we leave behind. We shut it all out because summer break is just us. I don’t realize that I’ve begun to dig my fingers into the flesh of my arm until Arthur yanks my hands away.

He doesn’t say anything, just squeezing my hands in his. I can’t look at him, but I feel his gaze on me. When he releases me, my hands drop back down to my sides. I suck in a large gulp of air, trying to calm the pounding of my heartbeat.

Before I can make my way to Alex, Charlotte stops me. She holds her hand up, a sad smile on her face.

‘We’ve got it,’ She mouths, ‘Go.’

Her eyes flicker to the terrace, doors closed tightly. I can see, in the shadows of the darkness, Charles.

“I’ll be back,” I whisper, reaching out to squeeze Arthur’s shoulder before I walk towards the doors.

I gently push them open, waiting for Charles to scream out that he wasn’t privacy, that he needs space, but he never does

I step through.

Charles stands out on the balcony, hands clutching onto the terrace railing. He stares into the swaying trees of our backyard, the melting sun casting a glow around the shadow of the house. Though the wind blows, there is no twinkle of windchimes. There is no echo of laughter or memory of youth, there is nothing. The light from the entry room spills across his back, but he doesn’t turn.

The silence is thick, sitting heavily atop the both of us. With his back turned to me, I can’t see his face. There’s a selfish part of me that never wants to. I never want to see the pain and anger on my brother’s face. I never want to watch his heart fall apart before me. He is my family, an extension of myself.

“Why can’t they just leave us alone?”

His voice is hardly above a whisper, nearly consumed by the distant sounds of the city, but I hear. It cuts through the silence, piercing it with ease. There is sadness in his voice and I can feel the tears burn once more. His shoulders slump forward, a heavy sigh leaving his lips. For a movement, I fear that he might collapse.

I take a tentative step forward.

My brother is many things. Charles is competitive and rash, he is hard-working and self-deprecating. But he is also kind and forgiving, with a smile like the sun and a laugh like the sea. He is good. Our Papa used to say that Lorenzo and I got all the anger and bite, as it never seemed that Charles could hate, to be spiteful.

Always the first to take the blame, always the first to vouch, always the first to arrive, always the last to go.

My brother is good.

And the world is cruel.

“Charles,” I whisper, he doesn’t turn.

I reach for him, my fingertips barely grazing the fabric of his shirt, “Charles.”

He finally turns, biting his lip, tears in his eyes. The words die in my throat. There is nothing I can say to fix his pain, nothing I can do to take his unhappiness away. It kills me. They may be my older brothers, but I have always been fiercely protective of them. To hurt them was to hurt me - and to hurt them was unforgivable.

And Charles.

Charles, who flew through the night to catch my competitions. Charles, who cheered me on, even if he knew nothing about fencing. Charles, who always had an extra Paddock Pass for me. Charles, who always let me have his last cookie or pastry. Charles, who held me when I wailed for weeks after Papa’s passing. Charles put the money he earned in Formula 1 into getting Arthur back into carting. Charles, who always called to scream ‘Happy Birthday’ in my ear.

That Charles.

My brother Charles, would forgive. He will see it as a mistake, he will blame himself. In only a few hours, he will make a statement and tell the truth - because that’s just who he is.

I throw my arms open and catch him as he falls into them.

He doesn’t cry, not at first, just clinging onto me. But then, the moment that Alex’s cries drift onto the open terrace, he begins to weep. He sobbed into my shoulder, pressing his wet face into the fabric of my shirt. He clutches my hand, and I can do nothing but hold him.

I hold him and let him fall apart.

From over Charle’s shoulder, I see Arthur peeking out at us. He wrings his hands, twisting his fingers around. He can’t sit still, pacing around the room, brushing Carla away when she tries to calm him.

I gesture for him to come and he does.

Before I can say a word, he’s wrapping his arms around Charles, burying his face into his back.

“We’ll fix this,” He mumbles, “I - I don’t know how, but we will.”

Charles doesn’t speak, he just searches for Arthur’s hand blindly in the pile of libs and holds on. It’s all we can do. I feel like I am 15 years old, losing our father again. It feels just as it did then, unbearable. But we do just what we did then, we hold each other. Clinging onto the only people that we have known since before we knew them, the only people that will love us even when no one else does.

The only person -

Lorenzo is there, strong arms trying to tuck us all into him. I can feel his warmth against my back and push my face into his chest.

“We’ve got you, Charlie,” He says, “We’ve got you.”

We do.

We always will.

_________________________

A/N:This work has been cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. All are under the name XDACTED. Thank you for reading and feel free to request fics about any of the drivers <3

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chvrrycola · 6 months ago

Text

STRAY KIDS X CLICHE MEETCUTES - YANG JEONGIN

word count | 0.9k

warnings | food mentions

now playing . . . appointments by julien baker

AN // the final part !! i hope you've enjoyed

the other meetcutes!

you didn’t know why, but you were not in a good mood today. no real reason behind it, no good excuse for the nasty look you had given the old lady in the street who almost bumped into you. you hadn’t slept badly, no one had said anything particularly mood-ruining, but something in you seemed to have just decided that you were not going to be good company for the next 24 hours.

you didn’t feel like spending time with anyone, didn’t even feel like looking at people, all you wanted was to head to the convenience store, grab your favourite ramen, take it home and let your grumpiness melt away with a dozen or so episodes of your favourite anime.

headphones on and hood up, you made a beeline for the aisle where you knew the noodles would be waiting for you. you were lucky, there was only one original flavour left, if you had been even a minute later you might’ve missed your chance.

as you reached out a hand to grab the packet, a muffled voice breached your space. you couldn’t hear what it had said over your music, so, reluctantly, you pulled your hood down and removed one earphone, not wanting to mislead whoever had spoken into thinking you might want to have any kind of real conversation.

you faced the voice, and the human it had come out of, and made an ‘i’m-sorry-what-did-you-say?’ face.

‘“damn, is that the last pack?”’ he repeated sarcastically. the guy was around your age, and clearly thought he was hilarious, though with your current mood, you were less inclined to think so.

‘uh, yeah, i guess so, sorry.’ you weren’t sure that your response would be much more intelligible than his voice had been, but you really just weren’t in the mood to converse, even if you were denying this guy the privilege of eating what was, as any intellectual would know, the superior instant noodle option.

he didn’t look particularly satisfied with your answer, and tapped you gently on the arm as you walked away.

‘i know this is probably really annoying, but are those like, your absolute favourite? i haven’t eaten them in a while and they’ve like my all-time greatest ramen.’

he did look apologetic as he begged you to exchange, and you found yourself almost feeling willing to make some sort of a compromise, but they were your favourite too.

‘kind of, yeah, i’ve tried all the variations but none of them are really on the same level.’

‘ugh yeah, you’re so right, i remember thinking that the crispy chicken one sounded really good when they first announced it but i tried it the first day and it was just… bad.’

you suppressed a laugh, finding it funny how intensely serious this random man seemed to be about his taste in ramen, before realising that you couldn’t really talk, considering that you still had no intention of sacrificing the packet.

‘how about this,’ he began, re-energised somewhat by the apparent genius of his idea, ‘you let me have the original, but i’ll pay for whichever other one you decide to get.. no? okay how about i buy you three more packets then?’

he seemed genuinely convinced that this was a good deal - at least until you pointed out that you didn’t want three packets of random sub-par ramen when your favourite would probably be back in stock the next day.

the man had just opened his mouth to try and offer a different reason why you should give up the noodles when a middle-aged man entered the aisle with the pair of you.

‘sorry you two, you don’t know if they keep the original flavour somewhere else do you?’ he noticed the packet in your hands, ‘ah, i must be too late, my daughter told me they tend to go quickly, nevermind.’

he began to leave and you caught your new debate partner side eyeing you as he walked away. maybe you weren’t feeling quite as icy as you thought.

‘excuse me,’ you called out, ‘you can have these, i hope your daughter enjoys them.’

the middle-aged man tried to object, insisting that you kept them, but you were sure.

‘it’s fine really, there are plenty of other good flavours.’

he smiled and thanked you, turning once again to go and pay.

‘plenty of good flavours? so there are plenty of good flavours now?’ you rolled your eyes, but he continued, ‘what is it about that guy and his daughter that’s so deserving of the world’s most magical instantaneous ramen noodle experience?’

‘maybe i can buy you three other packets to make up for it,’ you suggested dryly, picking out another flavour at random and moving to go and pay yourself.

‘hey wait up!’ the voice came from behind you, followed by a quiet rustle suggesting that he too had bitten the bullet of semi-disappointing ramen.

‘i’ll pay,’ he said once you were back walking in step, ‘cos i was so annoying about it earlier.’

you tried to object but he wouldn’t take no for an answer, taking the packet from your hands easily and beginning to scan the barcodes.

‘besides, if i pay, this can officially be our first date.’

he tried to wink at you, failing miserably and instead awkwardly blinking in your direction, but you laughed and went along with it, agreeing to sit outside with him as the sun set over the river.

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apollo-likes-writing · 1 year ago

Text

Death in the Family

Characters: Jason Todd/Red Hood, Dick Grayson/Nightwing, Bruce Wayne/Batman

Summary: The world is falling. Dick and Jason are trapped under the rubble of a now-destroyed building. It takes everything to escape.

Word Count: 2325

Tags: Angst, whump, gore, graphic depictions of injuries, death/deaths in the past, swearing (but nobody actually gives a shit about that), mentions of explosions, angst with a sad ending.

Authors Note: Is the pacing goofy? Yes. Do I care? No. I will be paying in advance for everyone's therapy bills regardless. This fic was inspired by the movie "Fall" on Netflix! Let me know if you want me to tag you in my fics!

Masterlist | AO3

@qcomicsy

It’s as if the world is falling. Everything feels so heavy. An uncomfortable weight lies on his chest. Moving doesn’t help. It instead makes it worse. A disgusting feeling of wetness coats the side of his face. Is it sweat? Tears? He can’t tell. His body is heavy. His eyelids are heavy. Maybe he should just stay there. Slip into sleep again. Maybe then that weighted feeling will leave him.

“-Bird!”

A tiny voice sounds out in the dim. That’s peculiar. What’s the importance of a bird right now? He’ll figure that out when he wakes up. He’s too tired to care right now.

“Jaybird!”

The voice is clearer now. Louder, but not to the point of deafness. Loud in the way your parents are loud when they yell at you from downstairs to tell you that dinner is ready. It’s distant. Muffled. Like someone has put earmuffs over his ears.

“For goodness' sake, Jason! Wake up!”

That’s what got his eyes to snap open. When he does, he’s met with almost pitch black. His arms are pinned to the ground beneath him by sharp stones. No, not stones. Boulders. His left arm has clearly snapped at the force of them falling on top of him. The dull throb that emanates from the now useless limb is soon to crescendo, but for now that’s all it is; a dull throb. It’s now Jason realises that the uncomfortable weight isn’t just the feeling of impending doom as he originally thought. It’s a slab of concrete. Thick and jagged and it’s digging into his torso, surely leaving bruises in its wake.

He begins to panic when the dust begins to settle on his eyelids. How long had he been down there? He shifts around, attempting to move any of the debris that fell on him. Immediate regret shoots through him; as does a sharp, blinding pain in his leg. He cries out. The sound of it is gravelly and clogged as if something is stuck in his esophagus. The dust around him coats everything. His skin, his helmet (which he now realises is broken), his tattered costume; everything. It sticks to the interior of his throat and makes speech scratchy.

“Nightwing?” he calls out to the darkness, “What happened? Dick? Are you there?”

“I’m here, Jason. Had me worried for a second there,” the voice of his brother breaks through the cracks between the rock. Relief floods through the younger man.

“Oh, thank the gods,” he responds. “Where are you? Are you injured?”

“I’m fine, Jaybird. Only a couple scratches. You’re the priority right now. Keep talking to me, okay? Do you remember what happened?”

What did happen? The vigilante ignores the pounding in his head in an attempt to recall the happenings of the past thirty minutes. His mind is filled with the images of a battle with the Joker. Jason broke down at the sight of him, and his distraction resulted in the C4 at the base of the high-rise building to explode, falling directly on top of them as a result. The two men are lucky to be alive. It’s a miracle Dick scraped away with only a few bruises and scratches.

Yeah, Dick is apparently far luckier than Jason right now.

“The fucking Joker,” Jason spits. “I’m going to kill him.”

“Let’s focus on getting out of here first, eh? We don’t know if the rest of the family are trapped under here as well.”

Dick’s defusal works. Jason breathes in deeply to calm his nerves. His eyesight begins to adjust to the darkness, and he can make out his surroundings more clearly.

“Right. Yeah. You’re right. Where are you? I can’t see you anywhere.”

“I’m next to you, Jason. Through this gap in the rock,” Dick replies. At his words, Jason tilts his head as far as his predicament will allow him (which, predictably, is not very far), and the eyes of his brother shine out in the dim between two large rocks that separate them. They’re bright and unmoving and make Jason relax a little. They always seem to have that effect. The constancy of them always ooze safety and competence no matter the situation. He’s Nightwing. His gaze can make even Batman feel safe. All it takes is a meaningful look and Jason feels calmer almost immediately.

The younger man moves his head back to its original position, looking up at the debris instead of to the side. He closes his eyes, before throwing his head back onto the ground in frustration.

“Fuck! This is my fault,” he exclaims.

“We both know that’s bullshit,” Dick replies. Jason fights the urge to tut at him mockingly for his colourful language. “That man beat you to half-to-death and then caused the building you were in to explode. Nobody is blaming you for acting the way you did. This is not your fault. Stop blaming yoursel-"

“People could be dead, Dick.”

That shuts him up.

The two brothers lie there in silence for a while before Jason speaks up again.

“We should be dead, Dick.”

“How come?”

“What are the chances of us making it this far? You’ve been a vigilante since you were what, eight? You’ve been in the game almost as long as Bruce, and yet here you are.”

Dick remains quiet. Jason continues.

“Me? I did die. Quite horrifically, might I add. Yet here I am.” Jason opens his eyes and turns back to his brother. “Why am I not dead?”

“Because it wasn’t your time.”

“Then when is my time?”

“Not right now, if you’re wondering.”

Now it’s Jason’s turn to be silent.

“You have your whole life ahead of you,” Dick states, “Now is not the time for you to talk like you want to give up.”

“I’m legally classified as dead, Dick. There is a gravestone in the gardens of the Manor with my name on it. I’m already halfway there.”

“And? You’re alive right now, right? Is that not excuse to keep on living?”

Jason sighs, a heavy exhaustion settling like bricks on his body.

“Fuck you, man.”

“What for?”

“For being right.”

Dick’s eyes remain trained him, steady and still. It’s almost unsettling. The older of the two speaks up, this time with humour in his voice.

“I’m always right,” he says, a smile evident in his voice despite the fact that Jason can’t see the lower portion of his face. The younger brother chuckles, the sound scratchy and harsh.

“Now that’s bullshit.”

The silence that follows is comfortable despite their surroundings. Jason closes his eyes, a faint smile on his face. He could fall asleep here and be perfectly content with it. A heaviness presses on his eyes as he begins to drift off.

“Jason! Don’t close your eyes.” For the second time in the span of about five minutes, his eyes snap open in shock. They flutter for a moment, and he lets out a disgruntled groan.

“I’m tired, Dick. I want to sleep.”

“I know you want to, kiddo, but I need you to stay awake for me, okay? Bruce will never forgive himself if you end up dead.”

Jason scoffs. “Fuck that. He’d get over it as soon as the funeral’s over.”

“Yeah right,” Dick replies. “You didn’t see how he treated himself after the first time. He nearly destroyed himself.”

“Let’s put the emphasis on nearly, hm?” he spits into the darkness. “If I was in his position, I would have torn the world apart if he had-”

“Bruce isn’t you, Jason!”

“What. And you are, Golden Boy?”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“What did you mean then?”

An audible sigh is heard from the other side of the boulder but the older of the two brothers otherwise stays silent. Jason closes his eyes again, this time out of regret.

“Shit. Look, Dick. I’m sorry. We shouldn’t waste oxygen arguing.”

“You’re right. We shouldn’t. I’m sorry.”

It’s at this point when an audible drip of something falls onto the rocks behind Jason’s head. His eyebrows knit into a frown at the sound. What was that? Is there water above them? If so, maybe they could use it to find which way is up so they can escape.

Another drip, this time closer to his head. He can’t see the droplet of whatever it is falling from the ceiling of debris. Is it coming from the side? He turns his head away from Dick to look for the source. In the dim, he can make out a puddle of something next to his head. He squints his eyes, and he sees that it’s red.

Oh.

Red. Crimson. It’s blood.

His blood.

He’s bleeding.

The thing coating the side of his face isn’t sweat or tears. It’s his own blood.

Oh God.

Was the space he was trapped in always this claustrophobic?

Was this smell of death always present?

His chest is tight. His throat is closing. The pounding in his head heightens.

A short way above him, he can hear his family. They’re shouting for him. They’re shifting rubble and debris. They’re trying to reach him. They’re shouting for Dick. Dick is shouting back.

They can’t hear him.

“Jason! Shout! Let them hear you!”

He does so. He shouts. He screams. He yells. He yells for Bruce. He yells for Tim. He yells for Steph. He yells for anyone who might be there to save him.

“Red Hood? Is that you?” He hears his father’s voice.

“Bruce!” Jason replies. “It’s me! Help me!”

“Keep shouting, Jaylad. We’ll find you!”

He continues to yell for his father. His voice quickly growing hoarse from the dust that sticks to his windpipe. Beside him, Dick urges him to keep going.

“Keep shouting, Jason! Keep it up! Don’t stop!”

It’s only when light spears through the rubble and debris is pulled away that he stops. Tears stream down his face as the now unsettled dust falls on top of him all at once. He squints as his eyes try to adjust to the newfound light. The boulders pinning his broken arms are lifted and the slab of concrete is removed from his ribs. Strong arms lift him up and out of the pit he was in moments before. Bruce was always able to lift him as if he weighed nothing. Now is apparently no different. He’s picked up and cradled by his father like a child as he’s taken away from the hell that trapped him. He hunts for his family amongst the destroyed remains of the building that fell on top of them. He sees Tim. Damian. Steph. Duke. Cass. Carrie. Harper. Kate. Everyone. They’re all there. They’re all safe.

But they’re missing someone.

“Dick! You left Dick!” Jason’s voice cracks. Bruce gazes at Jason, the eyes behind the cowl seem sad. Defeated. It’s an unnatural look on the man. The Dark Knight shouldn’t look defeated.

“I’m sorry Jason,” Bruce soothes. He sounds broken. Why does he sound broken?

“What? No. Can you not find him? He’s there! He was right next to me!” he exclaims. Jason looks over Bruce’s shoulder to see his family gathered around the hole he was pulled out of. Steph is crying into Tim’s shoulder, his hand rubbing her back in an attempt to calm her. Damian is on one knee; the blade of his katana is stuck into the ground in front of him with his head lowered as if in prayer. Kate puts a comforting hand on his shoulder. What are they doing? Can they not find him? Jason feels like a child. Helpless and ignored.

As he continues watching, he sees a flash of black and red fly into the pit. There’s silence for a moment before he sees Connor Kent bring the limp body of Dick Grayson out of the rubble. From where Jason is, he can see the teary eyes of the Kryptonian and his heart sinks to the ground.

He doesn’t want to look down from Connor’s face. He doesn’t want to see the truth of it. He saw Dick in the rubble moments ago. He was alive! He was well! He only had a few scratches. He said it himself! He-

“-was dead on impact.”

His eyes are open, but the usual shine is gone. They’re glassy and dead.

What?

No.

That-

That doesn’t make sense.

“But he was talking to me! I heard him speak!” Jason exclaims. Bruce shakes his head.

“No, you didn’t,” he states, voice uncharacteristically quiet.

“You’re gaslighting me? Really?”

“He didn’t talk to you, Jason. I promise you that.”

Jason looks down from his brother’s eyes, unbelieving. He knows what he heard. Dick was speaking to him as clearly as his father does now. He was speaking right into his ear, for heaven’s sake! He looks at Dick’s mouth as if to disprove his father’s words.

Or rather, where Dick’s mouth should be.

His jaw is gone. Probably smashed by a rock on impact. The hinge hangs uselessly on Connor’s arm. It’s grim and ugly. Jason can’t look away despite himself.

“They say that,” Bruce begins, “sometimes, when someone is in a life-or-death scenario, their brain hallucinates a loved one as an act of self-preservation.”

The puzzle pieces are locking into place. The fact that Dick’s voice is what woke him up in the first place is making sense now. The fact that Jason never saw the lower portion of his face is making sense now. The smell of death wasn't coming from him. The unblinking, still eyes wasn’t a knowing gaze, he was fucking dead and Jason didn’t realise. He was stuck in a hole with the corpse of his older brother, and he didn't fucking know. But Dick saved Bruce from having two dead sons that day.

Even in death, Dick Grayson is always there to keep you safe. I suppose he is luckier in that respect.

Should I do a part 2 to this?

Reblogs appreciated!

Masterlist

#dc comics #batfamily #gotham #batman #dc #red hood #jason todd #bruce wayne #dick grayson #nightwing #angst #whump #angst with a sad ending

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alina-dixon · 1 year ago

Text

A Fable

Pairing: Morpheus x Male reader

Warnings: violence, blood, captivity, fluff.

Requested: Yes / No

Part 1

A/N: The reader is the Hero from Fable 2! I really love the game Fable 2! So I thought why not? Have fun reading!☺️❤️

___

It's a cold winter day in Bowerstone, you and your Sister Rose are standing at a fireplace. You and Rose are homeless. You are only nine years old and your sister is fifteen. You were just trying to get warm, when suddenly something fell on your head and when you touched it you immediately knew it was bird poop! Your eyes went wide and tried to get rid of it while making a disgusted sound.

Rose looked weirdly at you while having her arms around her body to stay warm. “What was that? Oh! Yuck.” she said while taking a step back. When you stopped she put her arms back around her and so do you with yourself. “Well… That’s lucky. Like finding a four-leave clover. Although I think I'd prefer the clover.” her voice sounded a little awkward when saying that.

Then she looked at the castle amazed that stood in the center of Brightwood. “Look. little Sparrow…Castle Fairfax looks so nice in the snow. Imagine the grand dining hall. I bet Lord Lucien’s having roasted duck at this time of the year.” She ranted while you just kept quiet while putting your hands over the fireplace and listened to her ranting.

She put her hands on her hips. “But he must be really lonely since his wife and his little girl died. In that big castle, all by himself… If only we could live there.” She looked at the castle with a sad expression.

Suddenly there was the sound of loud cheering heard from behind the houses. “What is going on over there? Come with me, little brother.” she said while running in the direction of where the sound came from. So before you could say anything you followed her, but you were a little behind.

When you turned into the alleyway and went farther down you saw a man talking to your Sister, You saw him talking to her a few times back then. “Hello there, young Rose. You look hungry. Have you reconsidered my offer?” he said oddly nice but also very weird. You of course do know what he's talking about.

You approached them slowly. Rose had a disgusted and angry look on her face. “We’ll never be that hungry. The answer is NO!” That angered the guy. “You’ll be back. And I'll be waiting for Ya.” he said with an angered tone, then walked away.

Rose sighed and looked at you. “Come on, little Sparrow. Let's see what's going on.” she said as we both ran again to where the sound came from. Rose sighed again. “That filthy creep… I hate him.” she spat.

You finally arrived only to see a crowd around a taider. “Oh… It's just a trader. I can't see anything through the crowd.” She was clearly disappointed.

“A-ladies and a-gentlemen… I have traveled the land accumulating wondrous and mysterious objects! Which I now offer to you for the modest price of five gold coins!” he said proudly.

“Consider this. This is truly a magical mirror. For as long as you look into it, it will make you beautiful!” he said lowly. “I'll take it!” a random guy screamed from the crowd. “Very wise! Now just remember: the magic only works if you look at it in complete darkness.” He had a smug look on his face.

The trader turned to something that looked like a music box, but it was completely made of metal. “Ah, now this is truly a marvel.” he said smiling at it. “This small, unassuming box is actually a device created by the ancients. As was used by the old rulers of the kingdom themselves! Turn the handle three times, and you shall be granted a single wish!”

Rose looked unamused at this and scoffed. “There’s no such thing as magic!” she said and she thought that nobody heard it because they were busy watching the trader, but hooded women turned towards us. When you saw her eyes, you noticed that she was probably blind.

“We live in grim times indeed, if the young doesn't believe in magic anymore. Most children your age believe eagerly.” she said in a calming voice. Rose looked at her weirdly but you thought that she was right, only because you believed in it yourself. “Look, I can see your eyes are bad, but I'm telling you, that magic box is rubbish.” while she said that the crowd beside us was getting smaller and smaller until everyone was gone.

“That's what the seller thinks. He has no idea what he stumbled upon. But you have an inkling, have you? Some part of you wants to believe it's magic.” Her voice still calm as before, she turned around already walking away from us.

Rose looked looked at he women surprised. “What? You… you really think it could be?” she asked hesitantly. The woman stopped but only turned her head to the side. “For five gold coins, you could have your own answer.” Rose looks dumbfounded at her answer. “For five gold coins, we could eat for a weak.” Rose frowned.

The women started walking away. “Listen to me, Rose. At the end of the week you and Y/N would be no closer to your dream- no closer to the inside of that beautiful castle.” she started. ‘She, is right actually…’ is all what you thought to yourself.

Rose turned to face you frowning slightly. “What if it is real? I bet we could get five gold coins… and maybe this could be a way out of here, after all. What is there to lose, little sparrow?” she sounded confident. I smiled at her. “Probably nothing!” Rose laughed then nodded. “All right! Come on, there must be someone around here who will pay us to… do something.” with that we went around town to earn some money.

After about half an hour we finally had our five coins to buy the music box! Rose and I went back to the trader. The Trader Murgo looked at you smiling. “Hello children.” he said happily. Rose and I smiled back at him. “Hello, we’ve come to buy the music box.” she started still smiling.

I walked towards the man held my hand in front of him showing him the five coins. “Very wise, little ones! Go ahead and turn the handle- but mind you go somewhere quiet, like.” he smiled at the both of you. “Okay thank you! Bye mister!” you waved at him. “Let's go make our wish, little Sparrow!” she said excitedly, as you both started walking back to your little stay.

You put the music box onto a box wooden box that was around half of your height. “Alright turn the handle!” Rose was a nervous as you started to turn the handle. “I wish… I wish…” After she said her wish the box opened and started glowing in a bright golden color. A beautiful sound was playing but then the music box started rotating and the music got faster, the golden color was turning red and then all of a sudden, the music box lighted up in a bright golden color and disappeared right in front of our eyes!

You and Rose we're shocked. “But… where did it go? Why are we still here? Five gold pieces… Let's just go to bed.” she sounded sad and disappointed. You yourself were sad at this, but still you followed her. “Oh. I was so sure this was it. I had this feeling like… that we weren't going to be stuck in Old Town anymore! Why didn't the box take us with it?” she still sounded sad but tried to push it aside. “Come on, Sparrow, go to bed.” so you both lay down to end the day. “Good night! Love you big Sis!” you said turning to your side. “Good night. I love you too, little Sparrow.” and with that, you both went to sleep. You only hoped that tomorrow would be a better day, and Rose won't be sad anymore.

It was still nighttime when Rose woke up to the sound of footsteps, scared that it could be a thief or something like that. She carefully opened her eyes and stood up, and when she saw who it was she was relieved, I was only the guard that they helped to earn some money for the now gone music box. “What do you want?” asked Rose the guard curiously.

The guard cleared his throat. “I work for Lord Lucien, miss. And would very much like to see you in his castle. I've been sent to collect you.” With that, he walked away, and Rose walked up to your sleeping form. “It did work! Our wish came true! Come on little Sparrow, wake up.” So you opened your eyes and stood up still a little tired. “What's happening, Sis?” you asked her with a yawn and rubbed your eyes.

Rose smiled brightly at you. “Everything is fine. We're going to Lord Lucien’s castle! Now come we have to go little Sparrow!” she said as she ran in the direction of where the guard went to wait for us. When I ran after her I saw her standing with a few guards waiting for me.

“Let's go to the castle!.” Rose said happily, and so we were guided to Castle Fairfax. “What do you think does Lord Lucien wants from us?” I asked her confused. “I don't know, but we will find out shortly, Little Sparrow.” she said looking to at the big doors of the Castle.

The door was open and an old-looking Butler stood there waiting. “Evening. Jeeves. Here are the children Lord Lucien asked for.” he said proudly. The Butler smiled at us. “Excellent!” was all that he said to the guard, then turned back to us. “Hello, young masters.” This confused you but you ignored it. “Hello, sir.” both you and Rose answered politely.

His smile tightened and turned around. “If you'd follow me please.” he said and started to lead us into the castle. We look up at this castle every day and think how nice it is. We both do. But inside it's even more beautiful than I imagined.” Rose told him dreamily. Jeeves chuckled. “It's quite wonderful, isn't it?” it was more of a statement than a question.

Then we saw a man walking past us. “Ah, hello. Master Garth.” Jeeves greeted still walking while the other male said nothing. “Huh, Man of few words.” He led us further into the castle. “Where is the grand dining hall?” Rose suddenly asked curiously. “Oh, in the north wing. Lord Lucien hadn't been there since… Since the tragic deaths of Lady Fairfax and little Amelia.” he told us as we claimed some stairs and further down the hall. “Oh, I heard. That was so awful.” Rose’s tone was sad. Jeeves nodded. “Yes, he misses them terribly.” Rose raised a brow. “So where does he eat?” Jeeves looked at her. “Actually, he takes most of his meals in his study. He's in there working all hours, doing research...” You frowned. “What does he research?” you asked him curiously. “History, mostly. Lord Lucien is quite keen on antiquities of all sorts, but he is chiefly interested in things relating to the Old Kingdom.” Rose nodded understanding. “There was a Trader in Old Town who said his stuff was from the Old Kingdom.” Jeeves nodded. “Yes… yes, I believe Lord Lucien… heard about that.” he told us hesitantly. We were standing in front of some big doors now. “We bought a piece of it and we made a wish and now we're here!” She smiled brightly.

Jeeves smiled again. “That's wonderful. Now, when you meet Lord Lucien., you must show respect at all times. Address him as “my lord.” Speak only when spoken to.” he told us, You and Rose nodded. “Yes sir.” she awnsered shortly. Jeeves stood in front of us “And do not mention Lady Fairfax or Amilia.” he said a little more sternly. Jeeves opened the door to the study. “Here we are. Lord Lucien? The children are here.” Jeeves informed as me and Rose walked in and the door closed right behind us. ‘I don't like this’ is all I thought as I tried to push a weird feeling away.

Lord Lucien turned towards us. “Children. It's come to my attention that you have some sort of magic box. May I see it?” he asked looking at us curiously. “It vanished m’lord. We were winding it up, and we made a wish, and then it started to glow and it disappeared.” she said sadly. “After you used it?” is all he asked. Rose nodded. “Yes, m’lord. The man who sold it to us said it was magic.” Lord Lucien looked a little interested.

“The box is of no interest to me, what's remarkable is that you were able to use it. What was your wish?” he then asked. Rose gasps a little scared. “Well, speak up… what did you wish for?” he asked nicely. Then she looked up at him confidently. “To live in a castle… like this one.” Lucien smiled. “Perhaps that could be arranged. I working to rebuild… well, I'm working on something wonderful, for which I need individuals with particular talents. Let us find out if you have them. Would you kindly stand in the circle, please?” Rose looked at him nervously “Erm…” Lucien Looked at her reassuringly. “I promise, it won't hurt you.” This made my weird feeling grow but Rose still obliged and stepped inside the circle, while you still stood at your spot behind Lord Lucien. Behind the circle were also very big colored windows.

Suddenly the circle started to glow in a bright blue. “What's that?” asked scared. “Nothing to worry about.” Lucien answered. You looked a little scared at the circle. Lord Lucien looked at me with reassuring eyes. “Go on. Stand in the circle.” Then Rose looked at you. “It's all right, little Sparrow. Don't be afraid. It doesn't hurt.” Her tone was soft. So you made a quick nod and stepped into the circle.

When you stepped inside there was some sort of a blue glowing wall. You were trapped. Lord Lucien stood in front of you, his face was full of shock and relief. “It's true. Your blood… you are Heroes.” This of course shocked you and Rose. “Heroes? You mean like in the old stories?” she asked amazed. Lord Lucien then tried to touch the barrier and it sent some shocks to him. “Ah!” he screamed out pulling his hand away and holding it. When this happens the circle suddenly starts to glow bright red. “What are you?” he asked angrily as he walked to a table with many papers and a book on it.

He started panting. “Wait. There was, there was something here…” mumbling to himself. “M’lord, what happened? What's that light?” Rose asked seemingly scared. “Quiet! You're heroes… but you're not any of the three…” he would us while looking through the papers. “What's happening?” asked terrified as Lord Lucien suddenly pulled a gun out. You froze as he suddenly pointed it towards Rose. “This isn't what I wanted… but nothing must stand in my way.” he said darkly. Rose looked even more terrified now. “No, wait. Don't! Nooo!” she screamed in agony, but it was too late he pulled the trigger and she fell to the floor. Tears were now streaming out of your face as you realized what happened, You looked at your now dead sister but you still couldn't move, you were to terrified.

Lucien then pointed the gun towards you. “I can't allow you to live either. I'm sorry.” is all that he said. You pulled your arms in in front of you as you backed away towards the window. And then he shot you which made you crash out of the window onto many roofs before crashing into the street.

When you laid there on the street you barely moved Your fingers. You then heard footsteps and a voice. “Death is not your destiny today, little Sparrow… Y/N” You knew that voice… it was the blind woman from the market. Then you felt how you were picked up into her arms, then you blacked out cold.

Suddenly you woke up to a familiar face it was the woman she had a dog with her that licked your face. It was the dog that you and Rose rescued once. Then time went by fast you reached out for the comfort of the dog’s warm fur, ready to take your first steps in a new life.

Ten winters blanketed in Albion, ten summers filled the air with the sounds of insects and laughter. With time your pain turned to strength. Your grief became will. A will to change the world. And to avenge the death that haunted your every dream.

Now you are 19 year old. You got your revenge for your sister with the help of the other three heroes.

Hammer is one of the other three heroes. You and her were taking a walk with Theresa. “Today is very beautiful, it's not too warm and not too cold! So it's the perfect weather to take a little walk.” Hammer breathed out with a satisfied smile. “Mhm” You nodded in agreement.

“How about we go into town and eat something? My treat!” Hammer asked. “Seems like an nice idea.” Theresa agreed. “Yeah sounds good to me!” you cheered happily. “All right, let's go!” Hammer said while laughing at you, so does Theresa.

So when you were halfway there about to reach the town something felt off as you three talked to each other. Suddenly you noticed your surroundings started to glow. “What's happening?” Hammer asks confused with a little hint of worry. “I don't know!” you answered back. “I feel magic behind it, and it's not yours. It's not good either…” Theresa said as you all stopped. Then the wind started to get stronger, the glowing got brighter, and started to circle around you very fast. You put your arm over your eyes to see something but the sight was getting less by every second that passed.

You, Hammer, and Theresa started to panic. “Help me! Please!” you begged inside the glowing mist. Hammer with half tears in her eyes looked at you then at Theresa panicked. “You have to do something. What's happening to him!?” Hammer screamed. “I can't do anything. This is way against the skills I have.” She said trying to sound calm. “What-” Hammer was about to say something as the mist disappeared, and you with it. Hammer stood there wide eyed. “What happened? Where is he? Theresa where is he!?” She screamed as she fell to her knees. Theresa walked to her side putting a hand on her shoulder to calm her down. “He will be alright. He will find his way back home.” Hammer was in tears as she looked at her. “You think so?” she sniffled. Theresa nodded. “Let's go home for now.” Her voice was even calmer now. Hammer nodded because she knew that Theresa was right.

Far away in a mansion in America was a Man. Roderick Burgess, he and other people stood in a dungeon under the house. They were a cult and Roderick Burgess was the leader of them. They stood around a summoning circle. They spoke in Latin, then the circle started glowing.

Right next to them was Morpheus held captive. He saw what they were doing. He laid there motionless watching them. As they summoned something, or someone. Then a little explosion was seen above the summoning circle and a bright glowing was there but when it vanished, there was a boy lying on the floor unconscious, on his belt was a well made sword and on his back was a crossbow.

“Take his weapons! And his clothes!” ordered Burgess. One of the cultists stepped towards you and bowed down to grab your sword, and another one grabbed your crossbow, then two others came and started to undress you, which led to you opening your eyes. “Oh, you're awake. Let's talk about business then.” You only glared at Burgess but stayed silent, you were now fully naked. “My Name is Roderick Burgess and I want you to be my personal guard, and hear on every command I give you. If you accept, you will get your stuff back. But if you don't, we will put you in a cage and you will rot in there until you die or eventually give in and accept.” again you stayed silent and didn't respond. Burgess let's out a disappointed sigh, then he nodded at the others and walked away.

While you were put into the glass ball you saw a another male that was also naked, in the cage next to yours. He was tall, and skinny, had black hair and bright blue eyes that stared right into yours as you now laid there.

Out of nowhere, Burgess stepped right in front of your view. You looked at him but didn't dare to move a muscle. “I have that you will rethink about my offer. Even if you don't want to, in the end, you will starve and start to beg for it. I hope you're smarter than this.” then he left again.

When he and everyone left it was only you and the other caged male. You both starred at each other again, only that you didn't really look at him because you thought about Theresa and Hammer, and the fact that you miss them and only wanted to get out of here and back home. Your eyes started burning so closed your eyes and silently let the tears slip.

Morpheus watched you as the tears slipped out of your eyes, but after a short while they stopped, and then he noticed that you probably fell asleep, which was probably better that way, is all what Morpheus thought.

The next day you opened your eyes and sat up slowly. Right now you tried to stay calm so you closed your eyes again. And while sitting there you felt the other males eyes on you but you ignored it.

Then Burgess came in and walked in front of Morpheus's cage. Two other people sat in the back playing a game. Burgess held himself on the cage. “The woman who lives with me has gone and robbed me of my fortune. She’s also robbed you. She's taken your helm, your sand, and your ruby.” this made you open your eyes and look at them. “Now I can unlock this, you can go after her…” Morpheus looked up at Burgess with a glare. “If you give me what I've been asking for. Wealth, youth, immortality. Oh, your a god. These things are nothing to you. Don't you want your weapons and freedom? Just like you Hero?” Burgess said lowly looking between the two of you.

So when you and the male in front of him didn't answer he got impatient and angry. “Speak to me! Speak to me! Speak to me!” he screamed and banged his stick against the glass, which caused the male to flinch shortly. A boy came walking from behind. “Come on! Speak to me!” he screamed again. “It's all right, Father.” the boy put his hand on his shoulder tho stop Burgess of what he was doing. ‘That asshole has a kid?’ is all you thought.

Burgess pushed him away. “Get away from me! If you were any kind of son to me…” he told him as he held the stick in the air and lashed out to the boy, but he dodged it, but hit him with the second one. The boy grabbed the stick so they both held it and faced each other. “If Randell was still alive today-” Burgess was cut off by the boy. “If Randell were alive, he would hate you as much as I do.” he said with hatred, and pushed Burgess back as he tried to attack the boy again, which led him to lose his balance hand his head hit the cage.

Burgess let the stick fall hand put his hand on the back of his head and saw blood when he looked at it, then he fell to the ground, with a big wound on the back of his head.

The to other man and the boy rushed to him. “Sir?” one of them said in panic. But when the boy put his hand on Burgess’s head as he saw a pool of blood leaping out of the wound. You and Morpheus only watched the scene. “You won't get out of there. Never.” Burgess looked at You and Morpheus one more time, then his eyes closed. “Sir can you hear me? Sir?” one of the male askedand tried to shake him but Brugess didn't answer. He was Dead.

The boy looked shocked and looked at his father as he sat there on the ground. “He isn't moving. Is he…” one of the males said. “He's dead.” the other one answered as the boy stood up, Looking at his bloodied hand and back to his dead father.

The Boy stumbled away a few feet but stopped between our cages. He stopped at the cage of the other male and turned to look at him. Morpheus stared back at him and slowly stood up, Your checks got red as you saw that but you wanted to see the interaction.

Morpheus reached his hand out. ‘He’s probably asking him to open the cage.’ is what you thought. The boy turned his head a bit as he reached out too. “Don't do it, sir. He’ll kill us.” one of the males said. “What would your father say?” the male spoke again, Before the boy's hand touched the glass he stopped and put his hand back down, and looked at the ground.

The male in the cage looked disappointed, as the boy looked back up. “I need to think.” he said and looked at the other male then to you, then he left. Morpheus also had put his hand back down watching him leave.

You were angry, but still, you stood up slowly wich made Morpheus look at you. You were a bit ashamed because you had no clothes on but you pushed that aside as you both looked at each other. You held sadness in your eyes as you slowly reached out and put one hand flat on the glass. Morpheus did the same while staring into your eyes. When you looked at him you immediately felt safe.

Then nine months later the door to the Dungeons door was heard which made the guards stand up and open the gate. Alex and also another boy came in. “How are they today, Rogers?” Alex asked. Rogers sighed. “Moved his hand this morning. Right hand. And the other one is also just sitting there but didn't move.” Alex nodded, as the other boy walked in. He had a look of shock on his face and gasped. “Oh, my God.” he looked at Alex and back to you and Morpheus. “Alex?” he asked.

Alex then walked in looking at the both of you. “Hello. This is my friend, Paul.” he told you as they walked further in. “Paul, these are our unwilling guests.” he said looking at his friend shortly.

Alex was getting a little nervous. “Look, we've been talking, Paul and I, and if I let you out, will you promise not to harm us?” he asked calmly while looking at us. You both didn't move not answered his question. “If you could just speak to us.” Paul said a little nervous himself, but again silence.

Alex looked at Paul. “You see, I told you.” he was a little disappointed. “I'm telling you, you have to keep trying. Show them that they can trust you. Show them that you mean it.” Paul softly awnsered back.

Alex nodded at us. “I do mean it. Just promise that you won't hurt me or Paul, and I will let you out.” Alex tried to reason. But again we didn't answer. We just looked at them this time.

Almost eighty years later you had developed feelings for the Male in the cage next to you which was weird because you didn't even know his name, but little did you know that Morpheus also grew feelings for you.

Also the guards started to change every now and then until they looked very modern. And you, you were still looking young and didn't age which you thought was weird and not normal, but Alex was old now just as Paul was, they both married year's ago. They were in the dungeon again. Alex stood in front of Morpheus's cage and had his hand on the glass. “I could have asked you for wealth or Power, and protection, like my father did. But all I wanted was to be free of you two.” He said softly.

You and Morpheus looked up at him. “Surely you want that too.” Paul walked into view pushing a wheelchair in front of him. “Alex, darling, please.” he said softly mentioning to the wheelchair. Alex put his hand away from the glass and sat down in the wheelchair, Paul's hand on his shoulder. He looked at us one more time. “Take me upstairs, Paul. I won't be coming down here again.” is all that he said as Paul started to push the wheelchair, and now there was a gap in the protective circle. Paul stopped a few feet away and looked back seeing it, then he looked at us and made a small nod. He then around and and left with Alex.

Morpheus looked at the gap and wondered why Paul would do that, but in the end it doesn't matter, he can free himself and you now and that's all that matters to him right now.

So when they got out, and the door to the dungeon closed, it was only two guards left inside. “Old Dracula here’s not moving an inch. Just like the other weirdo.” the Female guard said quietly, looking up from her book she was reading. “Why do you call it Dracula and weirdo?” The male guard said tiredly while looking up from his newspaper. “Because I think they are. What do you think they are?” she asked quickly.

The male sighed. “I try not. You know what I think about?” he asked her, again looking up from his newspaper. “Majorca. Four days… and I'll be on a beach. Stinking of suntan lotion.” he said and smiled to himself at the thought.

Morpheus leaned forward holding himself on the glass while glaring at the guard. And you were just watching. “Lucky bugger. I was on Corfu on holiday once.” the female guard told as the other one yawned and fell asleep. Suddenly something weird starts to happen as Morpheus stares at the guard. The guard stood up from his chair and shot both of our cages and they started to break. You sat there wide eyed. “Fred!” the female guard screamed.

She ran towards him to stop him. “Fred, stop it! You'll… Fred!” she screamed but it was too late Both of your cages exploded into many pieces and our surroundings were glowing. You and Morpheus got out of your cages. “Don’t move! Stay where you are!” the guy called Fred screamed. “What… what's he got in his hands?” the female screamed. You looked at Morpheus and saw that he had something in his balled fist but you couldn't see it.

Morpheus slowly put his hand up where he held something in it right in front of his face. The guards already had their weapons aimed at us. “Oi! Open your hands, now!” she screamed at him.

And so he opened his Hand and you saw him blowing some sort of sand towards them, which made them instantly fall asleep. You were watching the scene curious. But then all of your strength suddenly left your legs and you fell to your knees right next to Morpheus with a thud. He instantly looked at you and kneeled down to your hight.

He slowly put his hand on your cheek and his eyes looked at you softly. “I'll get us out of here.” he said and his tone was smooth but very deep. You melted into his hand and nodded at him. Then he slowly picked you up bridal style. Your arms around his waist as you were sucked into the glowing. You… you were getting your revenge now.

Then in a room a black cat came in and sat on a chair in the middle of the room. There also came Alex into the room he looked young again and he curiously looked at the cat with his head tilted to the side. Suddenly the cat disappeared and Morpheus sat on the chair and you stood beside him both fully clothed as you looked at Alex darkly. “Hello” Morpheus said.

Alex was scared you could see it in his eyes. “It's... It's you two. You're… you're free.” he said quietly. “We are.” Morpheus simply awnsered as he stood up and the wind started to blow through the open window. “And have you any idea what it was like? Confined in a cage for over a century?” he asked as he slowly walked towards Alex. “Do you understand the damage you've done to your world?” he asked again. Alex was more then just scared now, he was terrified. “I'm sorry. I… I didn't know. Please.” he said backing away a bit.

Morpheus looked at him unbothered just like you. “Your punishment, then, shall be a gift.” when he said that Alex turned to a little boy. “I give you this, the gift… of eternal… sleep.” when he finished the sentence he blow some sand in Alex’s face and he fell asleep.

Morpheus looked looked back at you holding his hand out. “Let's get out of here.” That's all you needed to hear and took his hand as he teleported you both.

A voice was heard. ”Sir. Sir.” It was the panicked voice of Lucienne. “Oh, my goodness.” she kneeled down to turn him onto his back. “Sir. It's me!” she panted as she saw his eyes opening. “It's Lucienne.” she said as Morpheus looked at her and started to smile and took her hand. “Lucienne.” he whispered weakly. “Your home, my Lord.” and that's when Morpheus started to frown. When he looked beside him he noticed you weren't there. “My Lord? What's wrong?” she asked worriedly.

Morpheus started to stand up. “A boy, he was held captive. Just like me. I brought him with me.” He said as he started to look around. Not even a minute later he saw you laying a few feet away from him, and he immediately sprinted towards you with Lucienne. “A Human? Why was he held captive?” she asked confused. Morpheus shook his head as he turned you around and saw you breathing normally. “He is not fully human, it seems. Because he didn't age for almost a century. The man who held us captive once called him Hero.” Lucienne looked at him baffled. “Do you think he is one of the three heroes? My Lord?” she asked. “I don't know.” is all he awnsered as he gently put a hand on your cheek which made you open your eyes.

When you saw him you started to smile. “Your safe now.” Morpheus said softly as he helped you off of the ground. You looked around and saw the woman with pointy ears and smiled at her. “Hello, jung Man.” she smiled back at you. You were a little scared to speak because you didn't talk since you were held captive, but you decided to still try it. “H-Hello.” you said but your voice didn't sound raspy or broken as you thought it would be. Morpheus and Lucienne smiled at you. “Thank you, for taking me with you…” you started but you trailed off because you didn't know his name.

Morpheus smiled softly at you. “My name is Morpheus. And this is Lucienne.” he told you. “Thank you, Morpheus. And my name is Y/N.” you smiled at both of them.

You started walking over to very huge gates on a massive wall. On those big gates were some pictures in it it looked well made. It made you look at them amazed with your mouth wide open. Morpheus looked at you and chuckled. “You like them?” he asked which made you blink before realizing, and looked at him. “Yeah! I-I mean they look astonishing!” you smiled at him nervously.

Morpheus then raised his hand and touched the gates, they began shaking and started to open up. “Forgive me, sir, but… the realm, the palace… they are not as you left them.” Lucienne said as Morpheus looked at her. Morpheus looked through the gate as it opened. His look… he was shocked with what happened to his Realm… his home.

You, looked shocked too, even if you didn't know how it looked like before. You saw the dead trees and bushes, the land looked like as if it was completely dead. Then you saw that a piece of the roof from the half destroyed castle fell down. “What happened here? Who did this?” He asked not daring to look away from his destroyed home.

Lucienne let out a sigh. “My Lord, you are The Dreaming, The Dreaming is you. With you gone as long as you were, the realm began to… decay. And crumble.” she looked at him sadly as he looked back at her. “And the residents? The Palace staff?” Morpheus asked with a little hope. “I'm afraid most have… gone.” she looked at the ground. “Gone?” he asked rising his eyebrows. “Some went looking for you.” she looked back at him. “And the others?” He asked walking in front of her. Lucienne looked back down to her side, then back up. “They thought, perhaps, you'd grown weary of your duties and…” Morpheus stopped her. “What? Abandoned them? Had they so little faith in me?” he asked in disbelief.

Lucienne didn't know what to say. You on the other concentrated on the view that was in front of you, as the conversation went deff on your ears. You slowly started to move away from them and towards the destroyed landscape. You felt welcomed even if the view in front of you didn't look welcoming in the first place. You closed your eyes whilst you took in the fresh air.

Lucienne looked towards you, which made Morpheus look behind him and he sees that you are walking away from them. When suddenly they saw some tears rolling down your face, when you turned your head sideways.

Lucienne looks worried. Then you felt a hand on your shoulder which made you open your eyes and look at the person who's hand was on your shoulder. It was Morpheus. You look at him puzzled. “Y/N?” Morpheus asked. “Yes? Is something wrong?” you tilted your head. “You seemed lost in thoughts. What's wrong?” he asked softly. “Didn’t notice that! I'm happy to be free again and out of this tiny cell in that weird Dungeon… Aaaand I'm probably a little tired after some sleepless nights.” You laughed awkwardly while scratching your head.

Morpheus nodded. “How about a little sleep then?” He asked while rising a brow. “Hmmm, no. Not before I helped you rebuild your realm!” you said grinning and put your hands on your hips. “But if you want to help him, you will need your sleep.” Lucienne reasoned. You humed. “You're probably right. Okay, I'll sleep once we’re there.” you smiled. Morpheus nodded again. “Let's go shall we?” you nodded at his question and walked beside him.

When you arrived at the castle, Morpheus turned towards you. “Come with me, I show you where you can sleep,” he started as you part ways with Lucienne. “Can I ask you something, Morpheus?” you look at him. “Of course. What do you want to know?” you thought for a short second. “I wanted to know who you are besides Morpheus, you know?” you asked nervously. Morpheus smiled and made a small chuckle. “I am an Endless, Dream of the Endless to be exact. People also call me the Sandman. Also we're here.” he said opening a door to a bedroom that was still intact. When you went inside you saw that the room was painted in black, but it was held simple.

You pulled your shoes, coat, and shirt off. When you sat down on the bed, Morpheus follows you and stands in front of you. “Who's room is this?” you asked looking around. “It's mine.” he simply answered. Your head shot into his direction while standing up. “I didn't know. I can sleep on the floor too.” you tried to say as he already put a hand on your shoulder and sat you back down. “It's alright. I told you to sleep, didn't I?” you looked baffled as you nodded at him. “Now, lay down.” you did as you were told and pulled the covers over you.

Morpheus kneels down to your height, and holds a closed hand in front of his face, which makes you realize what he was about to do so you stop him. “Wait!” you said which made him raise a brow. “Yes?” he asks while looking into your eyes. “We can share the bed if you want! I mean if it's okay with you…” you said shyly. This catches Morpheus off guard but he starts to smirk slightly. “If that's what you want. I will. But I will go and talk to Lucienne shortly, then I'll be back.” he says and you give him a closed-eyed smile. “Yeah, I'll wait.” Morpheus gives you a nod as he stands up and leaves the room grinning to himself.

About ten minutes later he returned. “I'm here now.” he says and you simply nod at him. So he pulls his shirt and pants off but leaves the boxers on. He walks over to the empty side of the bed and gets under the covers. You both stare at each other until you slowly fell asleep. Morpheus smiled at your peaceful sleeping face as he slowly touched your cheek with his hand. Then the next second, you had your arms around him and snuggled into his chest. “Good night, Y/N.” Morpheus had a small smile on his face as he laid his arms around your body.

#male reader #gay #male x male #male x male reader #x male reader #lgbtq #x male y/n #the sandman #morpheus #lord morpheus #dream #dream of the endless #oneiros #fable 2 #morpheus x male reader #lord morpheus x male reader

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caityelizabethjoy · 6 months ago

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@ff9week2024 Day 6 - July 6th - Summer || Relationships || Voyage

He had one more surprise for her that night. "I taught the band our song," he said with a lopsided grin, and before she'd even registered this statement, the melody reached her ears, perfect in orchestral form. She gazed up at him, tears in her eyes, wondering how she could ever have been so lucky to receive a second chance at love.

Breaking the rules and making two posts today - because I have to talk about these two.

I just love everything about Zidane and Dagger. From the moment they met and Zidane vowed to kidnap her, his support for her was unwavering. He was instantly drawn to the princess, protecting her from harm without question or an ulterior motive - just because he wanted to help. Watching them bond and laugh and fumble their way through their early interactions was such a joy. The way their relationship changes throughout the game feels organic. For me, Zidane and Dagger’s relationship feels real - they can have a joke and be silly and sweet, but they also have moments of deep sincerity and vulnerability. They don’t always agree, and sometimes even argue, but they are always learning from each other. In this way, they make each other better people; they bring out the best in each other. When they were torn apart, they both realised just how much they meant to each other, and it didn’t take long for them to be drawn back together. I love how their relationship in the game begins and ends with ‘I Want to be your Canary’, and Zidane’s promise to her - in the end, he was able to capture his canary and find a place to call home. Their journey is so wonderfully romantic from start to finish - I can’t express how special their love story is to me.

I've been in love with these two since I was 12 years old. It may be the nostalgia, but I truly love the incredible storytelling in FFIX and Zidane and Dagger will always, always hold a very special place in my heart. I am so grateful that I grew up with this game. I still remember the first time I finished it - not believing they'd killed off the main character, squirming in anticipation and worry, seeing the hooded man's gloves and thinking 'they're Zidane's gloves, right!? He's alive, right!?' And the reveal! Oh my goodness. The way he theatrically throws off his cloak, declaring his love - probably my favourite line in the game - "Bring my beloved Dagger to me!" My heart burst with happiness the first time I saw the ending, and I remember sitting on the "The End" screen for a very long time afterwards, listening to the prelude, just taking it all in, overcome with emotion. I just love this game. I love these two.

#final fantasy ix #my art #zidane tribal #ff9 #ffix #garnet til alexandros #paint tool sai #final fantasy 9 #ff9weeek2024 #yes I realise I've drawn a bazillion ziddag pieces with Dagger crying #try and stop me #Zidane x garnet #ff9week2024 #ffixweek #this was originally just Zidane and Dagger dancing but it became a whole post ending celebration!? whoops #this kind of art is still waaay out of my skill level but oh well #can't get better if you don't try

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more-cardigan-than-woman · 2 years ago

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The Babysitter - Day 5 - Midnight / 8

Summary: You ran away and now you're at a club, what could possibly go wrong

Thief!Reader x The Red Hood

4.8k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, semi public sex acts, chasing, minor primal kink, swearing, alcohol, chocking, slapping, canon typical violence.

AN: This chapter is split into night and day, as it starts at midnight and it was way too long.

Day 4

The metaphorical clock strikes midnight as you approach The Bunker. There is no line, no security, just one singular light hanging above a random steel door. To say this club was underground, well, it would be wrong. Sure, it’s called The Bunker, but that's mostly because the place is run by hench folks and they’re not exactly a creative bunch. You remember when you first asked Harley about it and she just rolled her eyes and sounded surprised that it was still open.

Shimming down the dress that you fished out of your go bag and very carefully changed into in the park restroom, you approach the club. Your eyes wander up and you notice the beam in the sky, he's out tonight. Which must be why everyone's here and not with their bosses causing mayhem.

You knock in sequence on the heavy door, surprised when a familiar face greets you.

"Janice! Bestie! I didn't know you got a job here. I haven’t seen you in so long! What have you been up to? Aside from this sweet side gig? It must be good work? Do they pay well? Do you get to meet heaps of cool people?”

"It's Janelle," Janice says, looking wholly unimpressed to see you, she flips her long dark braid over her shoulder, seeming to type something into her tablet before rolling her eyes at you, "go in."

"We should catch up soon! It's been ages since we hung out!."

"Not long enough." She mutters as you walk past her and walk down the long corridor towards the club.

With every step you hear the music grow louder, the lights grow brighter and you grow closer and closer to the party. "Good luck finding me here, Macho man." You mumble, stepping into the crowd and locating your first mark.

"Where are you going?" Jason thinks as he stares down at the little dot on his map, "there's nothing that side of crime alley, little trouble maker."

Revving his motorcycle he follows the dot, ending up at a random street. "Where are you?" He peers around noting the large apartment buildings above and garbage covering the alley way. "What the fuck?" He grips his phone so hard he can hear the screen crack as your dot vanishes, "she can't just fucking disappear."

Pacing back and forth he tries to think, his brain almost combusting before an idea springs to mind. Lucky for him the idiot answers in a second.

"Hey boss, wassup?"

"Jamie, you know any hangouts near park and renegade?"

"Just the bunker, heard they was having a party tonight."

"The bunker?"

"Yeah, it's the henchman hangout."

"The-"

"Henchman's hangout. Used to go there all the time. But you got me so busy these days while you're out, i-"

"How do I find it?"

"Got a light over the door, big steel one."

"Thanks Jamie, take the night off." He ends the calls before the man can keep talking.

He scans the alley again, noticing the single light hanging from a patio a bit further down. Jason bangs on the door with his fist and when it doesn't open he kicks that fucker down.

"Mr Red Hood sir, I didn't realise.." Janelle says, "Sorry, we don't normally get-"

The Red Hood walks right by the flustered woman, throwing her some money for the door before stalking his way down the hallway.

“What is this song?” you shout to Lark over the thrum of the music.

“No idea.” she smiles at you, “Behind you, Rolex.”

“Good spot,” your eyes flick back to the tall guy behind you, his brown hair flipping around as he attempts to dance, “cover me,” you say to Lark as she turns her back to watch from behind.

“Got you girl. Get us that bag.”

“Wow,” you turn, your hand landing on the man's big (though not as big as Red's) forearm, his cheap plasticky jacket seeming to stick to the palms of your hands, “Sorry,” you stare up at the man his dull hazel eyes not nearly as enchanting as the blue ones you’ve been thinking about all day, “Or not,” you wink as his hand slips down your arm.

“We dancing?” he asks, grabbing your hand to twirl you around and you let out a squeal. “You’re fun.” he pulls you closer “cute too,” you can smell how much he bathed in his cologne before coming out tonight, you can feel the bile creeping up your throat with every second. This closeness only makes you move faster before the stench makes you aspirate or puke.

“Yeah, let's dance.” you take his hand and let him hold it, while your fingers toy with the clasp on his watch. “Spin me again,” you laugh and as he does you flick the watch off his wrist and spin yourself into your dark haired friend.

“Girl, you get it?” Lark catches you, wrapping her arm around your shoulder and spins so her back is covering the man's view of you.

“Happy Birthday Larkie, your gift,” you joke, slipping it onto her wrist and laughing when it fits perfectly.

“Best gift ever. Until the next one,” Lark links her arm through yours, winding you both through the crowd as whatever his name was tries to follow you both.

“Drinks?”

“Yes, Des is serving those big fruity cocktails I love, I want at least four and you can tell me more about the Red Hood and why the fuck I haven’t seen you all week.”

You and Lark continue to drink, talk and steal. You almost forget that Reds on his way, that he promised to punish you for being bad, that he’s probably going to slap you again, maybe throw you over his shoulder like the man handling dickhead he is. Maybe he’ll snarl at you, pin you up against the wall and then just take-

“Yo! Your drifting off into the clouds again girlie.” Lark snaps her fingers in front of your face, “Earth calling, wanna come back down to me?”

“Yeah,” you shake your head, “I’m here, just thinking about-”

“Why don’t you go splash your face.” Lark offers, tilting her head towards the bathroom, “Someones watching us.”

“I can’t see anyone, but I trust you. Be back in a sec.” you push your way through the crowd, your eyes searching for any sign of the Red Hood. You don’t see him or anyone really, just a bunch of faceless swaying beings that form the dance floor and the wooden door that leads into the bathroom.

Shoving your way inside you tip your head over the graffiti covered sink and splash some of the water over your face, careful not to get any in your mouth. It’s probably safe, but probably isn't definitely and with Scarecrow out of Arkham anything is possible.

"G'day petal," a deep voice startles as it storms from one of the stalls, "gunna need me boom back,"

"You what?" You lift on your toes and take a step back, planting your feet on the ground.

"I know you took my boomerang, petal."

"For once you're wrong, Boomer."

"Yeah, nah. Ain’t got your little boyfriend to keep me away this time."

"Who?" You push at him and when he doesn't budge you reach behind you, gripping at the gun tucked into your pocket.

"Who says he's my boyfriend?" You lift up as your hand grips the handle.

"Everyone, I talked to."

"Wrong again." You pull the gun out pointing it under his chin, "how does it feel to be so wrong so often, Boomer?"

"Feels pretty nice from here," he grinds his hips into you and you click the trigger, "Petal forgot her bullets," he tuts at you, "silly girl."

"Don't need em," you smirk, reaching the gun back and colliding It with his head, a loud smack echoes in the small room and he's on the floor, "now for my prize," flipping his jacket open you take one of the boomerangs, easily tucking it into your pocket with the rest of your loot.

"What's with the gun?" Lark asks, her eyes shifting to the passed out Boomer on the bathroom floor, “I see, we should go.” she wraps an arm around you and hurries you into the crowd on the dancefloor.

“I wasn’t taking that long,” you shout into her ear.

“No, I came to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

“Your guy.”

“My what?”

“The Red Hood.”

“What about him?”

“He’s here.”

Jason's helmet scans the room, instantly spotting you cozied up to some random woman. Eyes turn to him, but he ignores them as he sinks into the shadows of the club.

He watches you for a while, the tiny echo of your voice ringing across the large room. His eyes drift up your legs, stopping at the short hemline of your skirt and the heaviness of your pockets. Jason enjoys seeing you take and take and take from those around you, seemingly gifting this woman with the dark hair with some of your takings. The both of you dance and laugh together, seeming to work together to scam those around you and he can’t help the jealousy of how free you seem to be with her seep into his trigger finger. You’re spinning and free and the way you cling to her, it’s taking all his control not to march over, pick you up and drag you out of here.

You dodge someone before your pretty eyes dart around the room quickly, seeming to pause in Jason's hiding place in the shadows before moving across and then suddenly you're moving, charging off towards the bathroom.

Now is his chance, he thinks, stepping into the light when the whole crowd turns to him and he feels the need to sink back into the darkness. But it’s almost too late, he can see that dark haired woman coming towards him, a look of anger and vengeance on her face. Fuck, had you told her about him? What did you say for her to be acting like this? He moves, circling around the room until there is a dance floor of people between them. Jason was too busy trying to put distance between him and this woman and her cheap leather outfit. He lost track, you went into the bathroom, he thinks, then, where did you go? He looks over the crowd but he can’t see you, can’t even see the other woman, only the crowd and the lights.

He scans for you on his helmet again and you pop up almost immediately, your body moving freely as you dance with the woman in the crowd and he can’t help the step he takes forward. Like his brain has left the building and now something else is creeping its way into his head.

“What is that?” you ask Lark, your neck twitching to the side.

“Umm, Girl.”

“It’s like an itch, but it’s inside my skin.” you reach back trying to scratch it.

“Girl,” she spins you around and you let out a gasp as the Red Hood stomps towards you, the crowd seeming to part for him as he, can a step be angry? Its like his anger is seeping from his fucking suit. It's a very pretty suit, especially with all the bright lights of the club shining off his helmet.

“Love you Larkie, but I-”

“You gotta go.” she squeezes your hand, “take the back door and don't forget to have fun!” she calls to you as you take off, squishing and squirming your way through the dancers. You throw a glance over your shoulder and can see him getting closer as you move towards the back of the club and the back door. Your heart thrums in your chest, pumping in your ears while your feet struggle to stay steading on your heels.

“Stop following me.” you call, but are pretty sure it's lost in the noise of the club. Picking up the pace you kick your heels off, leaving them behind so you can run faster. You dart around the corner near the bathroom and a hand snakes out grabbing your arm.

“Where you off to now Petal?”

“Don’t have time for this Boomer.”

“Make time,�� he points his boomerang at your stomach, pulling it back. Fast as you can you wrap your hand around it, flipping yourself backwards and yanking it from his hand. You spin, throwing the object in the direction of the Red Hood and flee as fast as you can. Boomer is so taken aback that he doesn't say a word, just stares, his hand held up for when his weapon will return to him.

A loud thud rings down the hall and you turn back only to see Boomer on the ground again as the Red Hood steps over his body. His hand reaching down for the gun on his leg. Fuck, how is he getting closer? Are you moving slower?

Turning back around you make a fast dash for the door, the heavy clang of the Red Hoods boots ringing in your ears almost as hard as your breaths are coming out. The door! It’s right there, you're a step, maybe two from it when a strong hand wraps around your wrist and you can’t hold the scream of surprise in.

“Thought you’d give more of a fight, little trouble maker.” Reds robot voice growls into your ear.

“Well, I do hate to disappoint,” you stomp down on his foot, forgetting that you're in bare feet and wince when the steel cap of his boots dig into the arch of your foot, “Ow.” you cry, jabbing your elbow into the hard armor on his stomach, “Why is everything always so hard with you?” you wiggle trying to escape his grasp.

“So that little brats can’t beat me up.” he holds you a little tighter, the leather of his gloves biting into your skin. The smell of your sweaty perfume barely registers under his helmet, but fuck if he can’t feel your cute little ass wiggling into his cock. Biting down on his lip he tries to maintain some control, to not just press your smart ass little face into the wall and take you right here. His cock throbs when you try to hit him again, making that sweet whiney noise. Shit, he needs, what does he need- “I wanna watch you run a bit more,” his grip starts to loosen, even though he wants nothing more to hold you so fucking close, “ready?”

“To run from you? Always.”

“Good girl.” he releases you and you take off immediately running for the door, your sweaty hands siding off the handle and you giggle when you spot him watching you, unable to keep the excitement of what the fuck is happening inside you. The words, his words, that he keeps saying that somehow makes your insides melt and your legs feel tingly, “You won’t be laughing when I catch you this time.” he threatens, cracking his knuckles at you. But he hasn’t moved yet, he’s watching you from his perch on the wall.

“Fuck you!” you shout back when you finally get the door open and sprint onto the street. You smile to yourself as you hear the thud of his boots coming from behind you, “Fucking asshole!” you bolt down the alley, the stones on the tarmac digging into your feet, but you can’t stop. Even if you’re having fun, enjoying the thought of him chasing you oh so slowly and what he might possibly do when he catches up to you, “You’re so fucking slow!” you shout, turning around to see the alleyway empty, only the trash drifting down and the graffitied walls closing in on you.

Where did he go? He was right behind you a second ago. You turn towards the other end of the alley and can only see the soft glow of the street lights shining. Shit, where could he have gone? Did he give up? You think smugly, turning back down the alley which will lead to a quicker route home. “Fucking idiot, I told him I was faster.”

“But I’m smarter.” The Red Hood grasps your arm, yanking you into a covered alcove and closing your body into his hard armor. A deep breathe rushes from Jason's chest as you bump into him, he probably pulled your with more force than he needed to, but seeing that fucking smile on your face is worth it.

“Guess you caught me.” you beam up at him. He feels his cock straining against his pants at your closeness. If seeing you in the small dress, stealing from those assholes hadn’t excited him. Then watching your ass giggle and your laughter ring in the air as he chased you certainly did. “So what are you going to do with me, now that you've caught me?” you tease him, your hand reaching up towards his helmet and he catches your wrist in his hand.

“What do you think, trouble maker?”

“What do I think? Now he wants to know. Well, Where do I start? I think you’re mean, I think my feet are fucking sore from running on the bare street, I think I don't even know your fucking name and I think that you didn’t even care to come looking for me.”

“How many times is that now?”

“Times what? Because seriously, youre sending some mixed fucking signals here and I don’t know what the fuck is going on with you or your little brain but as fun as it can be, I need some fucking clarity here Red, because I’m fucking confused.”

“Nine.” Jason adds in his head, using his grip on your wrist to spin you around and press you into the wall, “I told you not to swear at me. It’s about time you got some punishment.” he lifts the skirt of your dress, impressed by how heavy the pockets seem to be he tries to ignore it, “Bad mouth brats, need to learn their place.” he slaps his hand onto your ass gentler than he wants to, his fingers kneading at your soft panties. “8 more to go, trouble maker. And for every noise you make I'm going to add one more.” he slaps you again and you can’t keep the little yip that escapes you. He keeps going “7, I’m sending mixed signals,” he leans over to threaten close to your ear, “6, you ran away from me,” his thumb grazes over your ass, “5, you keep being bad,” his long gloved fingers graze over the wet spot in your panties, “4, but I know you want to be good for me,” he flicks your panties to the side before slapping right over your clit, “3, you like to torture me, don’t you?” You let out a hungry moan, your ass presses back into his hand and Jason can’t help the way his dick throbs. “3 more,” he wraps a hand around your mouth, holding it closed, “I think this is torturing you more than me.”

You mumble into his glove, the leather scent filling your nose, his hand tightens on your face. You can feel yourself dripping down your thigh from all those delicious slaps moving from your ass to your clit and those strong fingers on you and his thighs closing you in.

“1 more little trouble maker. Can you take it?” you nod, sticking your ass out even further and wiggling it for him, “This is a punishment, act like it” he scorns you. You wiggle more, biting down on his fingers, and he moans at the feeling of your teeth gripping his finger, “Better.”

His strong hand slaps on your ass and your scream into his fingers, way too exaggerated but Red seems to love it. His fingers massage into your tender skin, his hand gripping tight on your face, “Quiet,” he commands you as his fingers slide through the sopping mess of your pussy, “Quiet or I will stop.”

“Ah, huh.” you mumble into the glove as his fingers press into you. The leather cold on the inside of your pussy, his helmet cold on the side of your face. But fuck, those fingers, he toys with you. Slowly moving in and out, swirling around inside of you and pumping up into your g spot. You almost lose your mind when his thumb grazes up and starts to circle your clit. Your hips thrusting back into him as you grind down on those thick fingers.

“You’re little cunt is so tight on my fingers,” the red hood pumps into you faster, “you like it like this trouble maker?” he pushes another finger in, while his thumb continues its ministrations on your clit, “I can tell that you do, you’re fucking clinging to me.” his hand moves from your mouth to cup at your breast as his body pushes you closer to the wall, “I wanna hear you cum, trouble maker,”

“Quietly?”

“Yeah, can you do that for me?”

“I- ahhh,” you bite down on your bottom lip, “I’ll try,”

“Good girl.” you fall apart at his words, your hold body shaking into the brick wall, your pussy sucking his fingers deeper and deeper inside you. Your teeth biting so hard into your lip you think you might be bleeding as your panting breaths escape from the corner of your lips. Red keeps a hold of you, his whole body seeming to keep you up while you come apart around him.

“Red, I ah-” you shiver as your body starts to relax again and he pulls his fingers from within you.

Jason spins you back around, pressing your ass into the cool concrete wall by the throat, the chill seeming to soothe the soreness and ache in your muscles, “Hello trouble maker,” he titles that shiny helmet to the side, lifting his fingers up and under the helmet so he can taste you, “How was your day?” he asks so casually that it throws you for a second.

“Really great,” you smile sarcastically into the lit up eyes of the helmet, “No one told me what to do, or threw me around.”

“Or made you cum so hard you shook, sounds boring.” his fingers grip tighter on your throat, his knees pushing your legs further apart. Shit, he’s losing control. Like he can't seem to stop, like that tiny taste of you and watching you fall apart on his fingers cracked a hole in his skull, “I had a boring day too, some dumb brat left me to entertain myself.”

“Poor you.”

“Want to make it up to me?

“Isn’t that what the punishment was?”

“No, because I don't think you learned your lesson yet, trouble maker.” he pulls off his jacket, throwing it on the ground before him, pushing you to your knees. Trying not to be impressed at how quickly you’ve bounced back after he made you cum so hard, “You going to do as you're told?”

“No.” you stare up at him defiantly.

“Do you want me to make you?” his finger twine through your hair, yanking your head back.

“Is this suppose to be intimidating? Because honestly that little kid in the tights is scarier than you.” His other hand slaps across your face and your sensitive pussy tingles in your panties.

“If you want me to stop, I need you to tell me. Just hit me in the leg or something,” he says so softly that you’re almost confused by it, but you understand. This game, or whatever weird ass fuck thing you two are doing, he wants reassurance that you’re playing too. “I need you to nod or shake your head, if this is too far-” he pauses, caressing your face,”-I can just take you home and rub some oil into your feet.”

You stare up at his helmet, your hands resting on his thighs as your nails bite into the hard metal covers, your smile maybe a little bit evil, “Fuck you,” you spit at his chest.

“My little trouble maker,” his fingers tighten in your hair as his other hand works fast to pull his cock from his pants, “Open your mouth,” he orders you and your lips open with seemingly a mind of their own, “Good, stick out your tongue,” he bounces his cock on your tongue and you can’t help the way you start to squirm at the taste of him on your tongue, “Sit still.” he thrusts forward pressing his cock further into your mouth, “Close that loud mouth,” you suck at him, your tongue pressing up into the thick vein that runs along the bottom of his cock, “Do a good job and I’ll give you a reward,” this spurs you on, thinking of how good his fingers felt inside you. You eagerly bob your head and your fingers press into his thighs, your tongue swirling around his cock as moans bubble up your throat and vibrate around him, “finally something that mouth is good for,” he releases your hair, his hand moving down to support your neck, “at your own pace, trouble maker,” he moans, trying his best to keep himself still and not fuck down into your throat, “yeah, like that,” his head flings back with the weight of the helmet, “You feel amazing, so hot and wet.”

You make a movement with your hands, your finger traveling from your chin to your head, while you keep on sucking and licking at him, “Off?” he asks a little breathless, you give him the tiniest nod, trying not to lose the grip your lips have on his cock. “Stop for a second,” his hand leaves your neck and his cock falls from your lips and you suck in a harsh breath.

Relaxing back on your thighs you stare up at him in awe, his huge cock hanging between his armored legs. He lifts the helmet off, his hair shiny dark curls fall perfectly over his face, he drops the helmet to the ground, his fingers brush the hairs from your face as his sharp jawline tilts down at you and a red domino mask stares back at you.

“I knew it! Two masks!” you exclaim, a second before he shoves his cock back in your mouth.

“I was such a close trouble maker, why don't you be a good girl and make me feel good and then I’ll think about rewarding you.” you hungrily suck his cock, your pussy fucking soaking the ground beneath you as you bring him closer and closer to finishing. The whites of the domino mask stare at you while his hair clings to his sweaty face. His moans grow rougher and more animalistic as he gets closer and closer. Your teeth scrape along his length and that seems to be the thing that sends him over the edge, his salty, tangy cum paints the inside of your mouth and you swallow it down like bridesmaids drinking prosecco at a bachelorette party. His soft panting fills in your ears as his hands gently brush along your cheek.

His cock falls from your lips as he leans into the wall behind you. His eyes still take you in as he rests his head on the cold concrete, his chest heaving, his breath spot but his hand still on your face. You meet his eyes as you gather some of his cum that fell from your mouth on your fingers and lick at it, moaning around your fingers in the same way he had earlier.

“You did so well for me,” he coos, lightly slipping his forearm under yours and helping you off the ground. He picks up his helmet, “Can you hold this?” he asks in a voice so devoid of the earlier animal it surprises you, “I’m going I take you home and I can look at those feet.”

“My feet? What about my pussy?”

“If you can behave long enough.” he picks you up, sliding an arm under your legs, “Remember when I told you how loud I can make bratty little trouble makers.”

“Not true until you prove it.”

“Then I guess I better prove it,” he winks, capturing your lips in a desperate, hungry kiss, “But only if you’re a good girl, think you can do it?”

“I can only try my best.” you snuggle into his chest, holding the helmet on your tummy as he carries you home.

Day 5 - 7 am

Taglist:

@letmebebatmanpls @hypnobanditprofessorhorse-blog

@nutmeg030 @igotanidea @tild3ath @halbhohehalluzination

@goblinhobo @efam @princessbl0ss0m @bubbles-incorrect-yb

@ilikw @megumisbabymomma @mxtokko @viperbaroness

#red hood x reader #red hood fanfic #reader x red hood #red hood #x reader #reader x jason todd #jason todd x reader

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boygiwrites · 2 years ago

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Living the Vida Loca P.5

• Jesse Pinkman & Reader. (Platonic)

(Here’s part one.) (Here’s part two.) (Here’s part three.) (Here’s part four.) (Here’s the epilogue.)

• (Find this story on Ao3.)

Summary — A short story about how a young teenaged girl gets wrapped up in Jesse's life.

Notes — Buckle up, this is a monster of a chapter!! And also, it's the end!! �� I'll be writing an epilogue, though! Thank you for everyone who has been here for this little journey!

The week before the betrayal.

The week before the betrayal, things are weird.

( In hindsight, maybe you should have pieced it together sooner. )

First of all;

Jimmy can't look you in the eye.

He laughs at the wrong times, stutters randomly, and picks at his cuff links when he talks to you.

He says he can't tell you what's wrong.

When you give him a look that must show your heart breaking in real time, he crumbles, and banishes you from his office to prevent himself from blurting out whatever it is he's hiding from you. Whenever you knock or ring, his receptionist always has an excuse prepared.

You bite down hurt every time.

Jimmy usually always makes time for you; especially after the attack.

One evening, you sit on the hood of his car, watching the inflatable statue of liberty teeter in the wind, and wait for him to leave the office.

When he sees you, he drops his briefcase.

You argue.

He calls you a brat.

You call him a coward.

Just tell me what it is, you beg, I can't take it anymore!

He looks, just for a fraction of a second, like he's going to say something.

He searches for the right words.

He meets your eyes.

Then he throws himself in the driver's seat and screeches out the parking lot.

The stars come out.

You take the bus home.

After that, you give up on trying to figure him out.

Secondly;

Walter talks way too much.

He baits you into dinner at his house and overstuffs the awkward silence while you pick at green beans.

His wife and son look like they want to disappear.

Walter talks way too much about your recent success on the mid-terms, and how he remembers that ugly backpack you used to wear in seventh grade, and how, one time, at the annual science fair, you spilt orange food dye all over yourself and he had to use his tie to wipe you down, and how he's lucky to have you as a student, and how, and how, and how-

With each unprompted story, he becomes more emotional.

It's like you're listening to your own obituary.

This is the first time you see Walter White cry, and it's onto buttered corn.

The dinner ends pretty abruptly.

Nothing feels right, after that.

He stops by the house way too often and smiles way too much.

He offers to carry your things, and opens doors for you, and tells fluffy, out-of-character jokes.

He always makes a point to ask if you're feeling alright, which strikes you as odd.

One day, Jesse straight up doesn't let Walter inside the house.

You squirm deeper into the sofa blankets while they cuss each other out at the door.

Look, man, she just doesn't wanna see you right now!

Well, why on Earth not?!

You start to skip chemistry just to get his voice out your head.

Every time you see him, he's got the same guilty look on his face.

One night, when you talk about it, Jesse admits he's noticed things are weird, too.

There's something very wrong.

You just don't know what.

He starts getting antsy, and he starts checking his phone all the time.

He corners Jimmy at a gas station one morning and tries shaking answers from him.

The next time Walt comes over, Jesse doesn't even answer the door.

If they weren't going to break, you'd just have to wait.

Between Jimmy's silence and Walter's chatter-mouth, it was only a matter of time before the truth came out.

The night of the betrayal.

The truth comes out at midnight on an empty overpass, while the city twinkles silently on a black horizon.

You watch Jesse and Walt from inside the car as they argue on mute.

You bite your nails.

The argument hits a climax.

When Jesse swings at Walt, you finally jump out.

The noise of the wind and the yelling hits you like a semi-truck.

What the Hell do you mean, huh? Huh?!

Jesse, I can explain!

You get there just in time to stop Jesse from throwing Walt over the railing.

A plane soars overhead as you all catch your breaths.

Jesse gets you behind him, exactly like the very first night Walt came into your lives, and points his gun at his face.

Numbly, you realise Jesse's crying.

Say it!

Jesse's voice echoes off the concrete ditch below.

Say it!

Say it, right now!

Say again what you just told me!

You feel sick, suddenly.

Whatever he's about to admit to, it's going to change everything.

You can just tell.

Walt shirks off his foggy glasses, wipes his brow, and looks you in the eye.

He's out of things to say.

I sent those men to beat you, is his simple confession.

Gus' associate, the one who sent those men after you; It was Walter?

All your thoughts condense into one word: Why?

Did Jimmy know?

The world tilts.

You remember falling to the ground.

You remember vomiting.

You remember a gunshot.

Then; two.

Three.

Walter's car shoots off into the night like a bat out of Hell, until his break lights are just little red fireflies in the distance.

You remember Jesse screaming and kicking and hitting himself in the head.

You remember wanting to go home.

You remember nothing.

Somewhere along the highway on the way home, the car dies out.

You sit on a cold patch of tarmac with Jesse and wait under the moon for Mike to come rescue you.

Suffice it to say;

Spirits are low.

It's quiet as a graveyard out here.

I spy with my little eye, Jesse sighs, and that's how you spend the next four hours.

You kick rocks, and play eye-spy, and take turns pacing the road, aimlessly searching for cell phone bars.

At some point while you're star-gazing with Jesse on the roof of his little red car, you re-construct Walter's plan in your head: Walt needs Jesse in check, Walt sends men to beat you, Walt stages innocence, Jesse blames Gus, business booms.

The bruise on your cheekbone starts to sting.

Is that all you're worth to him? A bag of blue meth and a pay-check?

You wriggle closer to Jesse.

He's the devil.

You glance at Jesse and whisper, What'd you say?

Despite the reflection of the stars in his eyes, you can tell Jesse isn't seeing any of it.

There's a glaze of something else; Anger? Defeat?

Mister White. He's the devil.

The night steals his words away like a tumbleweed.

You grab his hand.

You think you see a shooting star.

Mike shows up at 1AM with a toolbox, blankets, water, and a very deep frown.

None of you speak about it.

Working through the betrayal.

It takes one week for Jimmy to come crawling to your front door, begging forgiveness.

You balk when you see his raw, discolored face littered with little strips of medical tape and red scratches.

Around a busted lip, Jimmy swears to you on his life that he was telling Jesse the truth when he beat him for answers this morning.

Right hand to God, I did not know about Walter's plans until after Gus Fring died.

The silence lasts a life-time and eventually, your chin crumples and your eyes water.

Oh, Jimmy's features clench with sympathy.

He hugs you tight, and that's that.

You forgive him.

When he notices over your shoulder how messy the house is, the mush-fest is cancelled, and he calls you guys a pair of dirty pigs.

He scoffs, How the Hell have you been living like this?

You guess the place does sort of look like a well-oiled machine that just... stopped. It's disgusting, really.

You give Jimmy a re-cap of the past week.

You tell him how Jesse took a jerry can, a lighter, and a death wish to Walt's house, and tried burning it to the ground.

And how Jesse shakes when he sleeps, and how he's got that white-hot look in his eyes all the time; murder on his mind.

And how you both sort of just gave up on doing the dishes, or the laundry, or the floors once the hot water got shut off.

And how you spend all day in bed, staring at the ceiling.

Things sort of hit rock bottom for you and Jesse after that night on the overpass.

As he toes a pile of stinky clothes rotting in the corridor, Jimmy mumbles, I can tell.

He decides he's going to be there for you two.

He's going to help pick up the pieces Walt left behind.

While Jesse's out there flaming away like a bonfire, hunting Walter down, Jimmy appoints himself your stay-in house maid.

He actually cooks, this time.

He vacuums, and sweeps, and mops, and does the grocery shopping.

He googles how to navigate your TV so he can switch on your favorite shows.

He sits on your closed toilet lid like a stubborn mule and waits until you brush your teeth.

He forces you and Jesse to shower, and dedicates a whole day to mass-cleaning your wardrobes.

The only reason you and Jesse aren't living in total darkness anymore is because Jimmy remembers to pay the electric company.

He sets up temporary home-schooling arrangements.

He wears a stupid little apron when he makes lunches.

One day, he even mows the lawn.

Think of it like a non-refundable, pre-paid service, he tells you.

You think this is probably the most honest work he's done in his whole life.

He's a good person when he wants to be.

Thanks to him, you get by.

The end of everything.

One afternoon, you're in Hank Schrader's kitchen, watching him dump sticky sheep guts on the floor.

He's going to stage your torture, claim you revealed the money location, and trick Walter into leading them to the real stash.

At least get my good side, you grumble as you sidle up to the pink globs of meat.

Hank and Gomez coach you on how to pose like you're in pain.

They cheer.

That's the one!

Jesse takes the photo.

He helps you clean up in Hank's giant bathroom afterwards, with a warm wash-cloth and lavender hand soap.

It takes thirty seconds after the photo is sent for Walter to call back on speakerphone.

Jesse keeps him on the line by provoking him from every possible angle.

This is the knife he's been waiting to twist; to make Walter hurt.

You're not too sure Jesse's acting, after his veins start to protrude, and his fingers start to sweat.

He's spitting on the phone screen.

These are the cracking, broken words you hear Walter sputtering throughout the call;

What the Hell have you done?!

I swear! I swear on my son, my daughter, my wife! I never meant for this!

Oh, God, it's over, isn't it? Was it quick?

I'm sorry, Jesse!

You have got to believe me!

I didn't want any of this!

These are the cutting, burning words you hear Jesse seething throughout the call;

You're bringing kids into this, now? You lying, dogshit piece of trash?

I'm gonna burn ten G's for every time you've lied to my face!

I don't give a fucking fuck that you're sorry!

This is it. This is where you stop hurting people.

Like two planets on course to fatally collide, Walter and Hank barrel their cars through the New Mexico desert.

Orange dust swirls over the windows when you skid to a sudden stop.

It clears; slowly.

There's a small, beige speck of movement among the rocks.

This is it.

It's Walter.

The cancer chased him, Jesse chased him, the DEA chased him, and yet here he is in a corner of his own making.

As he shuffles toward your group, and then crawls, and then kneels, you feel something stretching like a rubber band inside you.

When you hear the clinking of hand cuffs, you realize it's a grin.

Hank lets you step in front of Walter, his thin gold frames and buttoned shirt askew.

You begin to laugh.

Your voice is a passing howl across the yellow sands.

You imagine every face that's ever hurt you, and you scream in the one in front of you until you can't anymore.

You slap him, you hit him, you kick him, you spit on him.

He keeps his head bowed the whole time.

Then, it's Jesse's turn.

The rustling of nearby shrubs sound like the whispers of dead men, calling for Walter.

Jesse's got no energy to waste on goodbyes.

Walter gets shoved in the back of Hank's car.

You wait for backup to arrive.

The air feels fresh, and alive. You're happy.

You and Jesse climb to the top of a craggy outcrop and hoot into the surrounding canyon.

We're free now, Jesse chuckles breathily as he holds your shoulders. We can do anything.

You're sharing a plastic bottle of water when you first hear them.

Engines, approaching.

Jesse straightens.

They're not police cars.

They file in through the gulley like little black ants.

Shouting.

Confusion.

The red rock you're standing on suddenly splits into hundreds of little pebbles.

Gunfire.

Jesse throws you both to the ground.

You're hard to hit from all the way up here, but they know where you are.

The sky becomes a bowl of echoing gunshots and screaming.

Jesse's chanting curses, holding your head down, and inching towards nowhere in particular.

The gunfire tapers.

Next thing you know, you're running full force through the desert.

Jesse's behind you, shoving you forward every couple seconds.

In the distance, so small it looks like a granule of pepper, you think you see a car cruising calmy along the freeway.

You know that it can't see you.

You wonder where they're going.

That's the last, strangely normal thought you have before your face hits the ground.

Jesse yells out for you.

You instinctively curl around your middle like a scared little bug.

Your hands are instantly wet, and warm.

It's blood.

There's a big, ugly, gushing ring of flesh on your stomach.

Through the disorientating lines of heat waves, you make out Jesse struggling against two men.

And a third man coming toward you.

He drags you by the ankle back to the cars, like a sinking anchor all the way back to the bottom of the sea.

The mid-day sky pans slowly above you. It's sort of peaceful.

You see birds.

At some point, you're dumped next to Hank.

There are flies exploring around his open eyeballs.

He's dead.

Next thing you catalogue is Jesse, pinned on his stomach, nearby; thrashing and screaming and no-no-no-ing.

You don't understand, but you do remember all the times you've ever told Jesse you loved him.

Wait, why would you remember that, of all things?

Why is Jesse covered in sand and snot and slobber and tears?

You try telling him you love him.

You think it's important that you try.

Again; why?

Your head pounds.

You hear a gun's safety switch off and feel the barrel against your head.

Oh.

That's why.

You expect your life to flash before your eyes, like one big, split-second movie, but it doesn't.

This is just some random Tuesday afternoon, at the wrong place and the wrong time, and you're going to die.

You remember hiding the house keys under the welcome mat this morning, because you thought you were going to come home today.

For some reason, that's the thing that makes you cry.

You're never going home again.

You think you can hear Walter begging, too.

Is this really it?

You start moaning sadly to Jesse about how you don't want to die.

God, everything hurts so bad.

No, wait. Here comes the flashing, now.

Your first bike.

The day you started first grade.

The skatepark.

The polaroids, strung up like pearls in your bedroom.

The broken coffee pot in the kitchen.

Your favorite song.

Your baby blanket.

The leak in the garage sink.

That one flowerpot in the yard that refuses to wilt.

Going to the corner store with Jesse.

The sales bin in Blockbuster.

The scar on Jesse's knee.

The papers in your bottom drawer; the ones that saved your life.

Movies, songs, books, laughing, crying, jumping, running, living.

Everything.

Gone;

On some random Tuesday afternoon.

With Jesse's pleading fading and your vision blackening, you decide to look at the sky again.

You see birds.

BANG.

Your vacation at the Welker's place.

I spy with my little eye...

It's the middle of September, now. Todd told you so this morning. You could guess as much, though, from the cold.

Jesse's voice lives in the hole next to yours, now. It's just how things are.

Every day, the tarp comes off, breakfast is lowered in by a tin bucket, and you play eye-spy with Jesse through the wall.

Usually, your only options are the shapes of clouds, or passing bugs and birds, or rain, or new weeds that grow from the concrete.

There's not much else to see.

I spy with my little eye, something white, he says.

You search the grate.

You guess, The tarp?

Jesse sounds like he's smiling when he tells you you're right.

You feel proud.

Your turn, now.

I spy with my little eye, something grey.

He guesses, The sky?

You smile when you tell him he's right.

It's moments like these you wish you were dying in the same hole, so you could give him a high five, but you're not.

Right on schedule, you ask, What do you look like today?

As always, he answers, Well, my beard's a little longer, I think.

Right on schedule, he asks, What do you look like today?

As always, you answer, My wrists are skinnier than yesterday, I think.

Sometime around lunch, you listen as Jesse is hauled out onto the surface and dragged into the cooking warehouse by his chains.

The only reason he goes without a fight is because last time, they cut off your pinkie toe for it, and he cried the whole night.

You spend the rest of the day alone.

These are the things you think about:

What's Jimmy up to, in this exact moment? Driving? Typing? Talking?

What's on the news?

Are people looking for you?

Do you remember anything about the roads it took to drive here?

What would happen if you tried climbing out?

Then, like clockwork, the moon slides across the highest point of the shed roof, and Jesse is tossed back in his cell.

You play eye-spy again and then wish each other goodnight.

This is your life for three months.

If you ever made an autobiography, this is what it would say.

You were born in a parking lot at a concert.

You spent your entire childhood in an old, spray-painted skatepark with a bunch of teenage boys.

You've been in lots of foster homes.

You were adopted at age fourteen.

All the adults in your life are either in prison, in jail, or on their way there.

Your chemistry teacher is a drug lord.

He tried to kill you at age sixteen.

You've seen three dead bodies.

You were shot in the middle of the desert on a Tuesday, and then shot again in the foot, and then captured by Nazis.

Now, you live in a hole.

If you were in a movie, it'd be called, The Worst Day Ever.

One night, Jesse's tossed back into his cell, but this time he doesn't want to play eye-spy.

He has a paperclip.

It's a miracle.

He describes the paperclip, and how he stole it, and what his plan is, in great, exceeding detail over ten long minutes.

You wait for the tell-tale thunking of closed doors and clicking lights, and then the Welkers are all asleep, and Jesse unshackles himself.

He folds up all his blankets and spare shirts and the mattress and his shoes, scales it all, and leaps for the grate.

The moon moves three fingers worth of space across the sky before he makes it.

He laughs.

You laugh.

You imagine him hanging there like a chimp, grinning.

You hold your breath for a long time.

The squeaking of metal.

Grunting.

Shuffling.

Then, for the first time in three months, you see Jesse's face hovering above you.

He wasn't kidding about the beard thing.

You laugh at him, with tears in your eyes, that he looks like Rapunzel.

He tells you to shut up, but he's cry-laughing, too.

For ten minutes, you charge at the wall, jump for his hand, miss, and fall back down again.

He's laying on his stomach, reaching down as far as he can into your cell, and trying everything he can to catch you.

Your legs are buckling and his elbows are bruised, but you don't give up.

The sun is coming up when you finally hear a solid clap, and you realize you're hanging from Jesse's hand.

You made it.

He pulls you out.

You actually feel the breeze on your skin.

Your wounds have all re-opened, so Jesse wraps his shirt around your midriff.

You sit in an old puddle of sludge and trash for a minute, not believing your eyes.

He holds your wrists.

You feel his beard.

He looks so much different; especially his eyes.

Then;

The thunking of doors and the clicking of lights.

The Welkers are awake.

Jesse hauls you to your feet, and the pain is excruciating, but you let him tug you along.

He's dragging one of the tarps behind him.

It's like that day in the desert.

Blindly fleeing.

Voices chasing.

You reach the fences.

He throws the tarp over the barbed wire, grabs your thighs, and lifts you up.

You climb.

You reach.

You twist.

You fall.

You're on the other side of the fence.

You're out.

Jesse lands after you, and then you're running again, into the maze of empty warehouses and alleyways.

Jesse finds a car.

You hold your head under the dashboard while he hotwires it.

The engine sputters like a dying heart undergoing CPR.

Bullets hit the trunk.

Come on, you piece of shit, Jesse cries.

The car starts.

He punches the horn in celebration.

A bullet pierces the rear-view mirror.

Then, he slams his foot into the accelerator, and like a bad, distant nightmare, the Welkers shrink and shrink and shrink away.

The sun is fully up by the time you reach the highway.

There are birds, and other cars.

There are gas stations, and payphones, and people, and light, and noise.

The windows are all rolled down.

You both scream out of them like it's the first time you've ever used your voices.

Maybe it is.

You don't know where it is you're going, but you're with Jesse.

He's all you've got, and he's all you need.

Is that a Burger King he's pulling into?

This might be the best day of your life.

On the TV near the menu boards, your face stares back at you, labelled missing.

You eat an army's worth of burgers and fries and milkshakes and nuggets.

He pays for it with the twenty bucks he found in the glovebox.

The door dings when you step out.

You're free.

Really, this time.

You can go anywhere.

Do anything.

Jesse asks you what the next move is.

You take in the world, anew.

Your eyes land on a bench near the road.

Jesse follows your gaze.

Better Call Saul, it says.

It's as good a plan as any.

New life, here you come.

End Notes - That was almost 5,000 words! Oh my god. Let me know what you think!! Ready for an epilogue that may or may not be set in a certain snowy country?

#breaking bad #breakingbad #jesse pinkman #jesse pinkman x reader #reader insert #reader #walter white #saul goodman #fanfic

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phantomwritezstuff077 · 9 months ago

Text

The Runt - Billy the Kid

Warnings for this chapter: mention of death, angst

Chapter Six

But did Laurie listen to that ‘no kids allowed’ rule?

No.

She quietly followed behind Billy and Melquiades, she had the hood of her patchy and damaged cloak over her head. Laurie was a quiet girl, so for her, it was easy to follow the two men in front of her to the gambling-house without them noticing. Once she saw them walk into the building she went around and climbed a large boulder so that she could watch through the window. Laurie knew how damn stupid she was being, but she had a sinking feeling in her gut that something was going to go wrong.

“Sit down. You are very welcome…,” a man whom Laurie was going to assume was Don said to Billy. Billy nodded, taking his hat off as he sat down and the game began. The men at the table threw money into the middle and Laurie held her breath, peeking through the window just enough for her to ot be noticed by the group of gamblers.

Laurie was beginning to lose track of how long this gambling session was going on for and she felt her eyes beginning to grow heavy. She was so tired, and she really wanted to sleep. Maybe she could just rest her eyes for a moment and check back in later? What was the worst that could happen?

The red-head’s eyes snapped shut and she fell asleep, resting her head on the wall as she softly snored while the gambling in the room next to her continued. Hours passed and Laurie was still fast asleep on the boulder by the window and the poker was still going on and it didn’t seem like it was going to end anytime soon. Billy sometimes found himself wondering if Laurie was okay being alone in their inn room for so long but he quickly brought himself back to the game. He knew she was safer in the inn rather than being here.

Oh, if only he knew.

Once the money was all won back, Melquiades and Billy decided to wrap it up and go home. Billy pocketed the money and slowly stood up with his friend and left the building without a care in the world. Once him and Melquiased were out of the building and back into the streets, Billy handed him the money that they had won and set off to the inn.

However, he stopped when out of the corner of his eye, he saw a certain red-headed girl napping on the boulder. Billy felt his heart stop for a moment, did Laurie seriously follow him out there? He immediately went over and gently shook her awake.

As usual, Laurie shot up, her eyes fluttering open as she looked around before her eyes landed on Billy. For a moment, she was relaxed but then she realized that she had just been caught and she sighed, tensing up like an abused animal preparing for a blow.

“You shouldn’t be out here, kid,” Billy hissed, firmly grabbing Laurie and setting her on solid ground again. “You remember what happened today? I told you to stay at the inn, an you deliberately disobeyed me.”

“I know…,” Laurie whispered.

Billy swallowed, trying to keep his temper from rising. “And what’s worse, you put yourself in serious danger. You could’ve been killed! You’re lucky I spotted you before anyone with bad intentions could.” Billy sounded like a scared and disappointed older brother.

And that was what he felt like.

She reminded him so much of Joe, if he lost her…

Billy shook his head, clearing his throat as he stared at Laurie, who was just looking at the ground. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Laurie, I’m not trying to be an asshole, okay? Let’s just go back to the inn and get some sleep, we can talk about this when neither of us are dog tired.”

Laurie just nodded and began to follow Billy, only for them to both be stopped by Melquiades. “Sleep? Who said anything about sleep? And don’t say that the kid needs it most, she was more spooked than a hunted doe just three seconds ago. She isn’t going to sleep anytime soon. So why don’t we go and have some fun, no?”

He had a point, Laurie was now wide awake and she would definitely not be falling back asleep again for a while. Billy sighed and shook his head, looking at Laurie. But before he could say anything, Melquiased dragged them to a nearby party. There was a lot of drinking and smoking going on there. Laurie stuck to Billy like glue as they made their way around, following the lead of Melquaised who joined the company of his friends.

Laurie sighed as she watched Billy and Mel help the two dancers off the stage. The 13-year-old watched for a little bit before she snuck off, stealing a whiskey from an unattended table and taking a sip. She choked a little bit as it was much stronger than she had expected but she quickly got over it and drank the whole thing like it was water. The little red-head noticed that they were walking away and she ran after them, quickly catching up and walking next to Billy as he flirted with one of the girls. Her head felt all fuzzy and she felt like she was stumbling over nothing. She wasn’t paying any attention to the conversation the men and women were having, she was too busy focusing on not falling on her face.

Was this supposed to happen when you drank whiskey?

Mel pulled Billy to the side so that they could speak. While the two girls, Maria and Julianna stayed behind. The two girls smiled at the young red-head in front of them. Billy looked back at Laurie, he knew how drunk people acted, so he knew that the kid was drunk as a skunk as of right now, however his attention was yanked back to his conversation with Melquiades.

“What’s your name, kid?,” Maria asked as Laurie shook her head, her vision still a bit fuzzy.

“Laurie,” the teenager replied, her words slurring together.

“First time?,” Julianna laughed, noticing the much younger girl's drunken state. Her gaze went back to Billy and Mel. “Would you like to come have dinner with us tomorrow? You can even bring the kid if you want to.”

ⅠⅠⅠⅠ

The next evening, as the sun set behind the rolling hills and the sky began to darken, Billy, Mel and Laurie made their way to have dinner like the girls had requested. Melquiades was monologuing about how they had to keep things respectful because these girls’ family was very rich and powerful.

“And at least try to say more, Laurie. You can’t be so quiet if you want to make a good impression,” Melquiades said as he looked over at Laurie, who clutched her sketchbook at her chest and simply nodded, sighing to herself as they came to the house.

Billy knocked on the door while Laurie wildly fidgeted with her hands, the scrawny girl wasn’t too sure how she felt about doing this. Within seconds the three of them were let in and seated at a dining table in the biggest kitchen Laurie has ever seen. She sat on a chair next to Billy, her leg bouncing as she fidgeted and listened to the conversations.

“You look very elegant tonight, ma’am,” Melquiandes said to Mrs. Buendia.

“Thank you,” Mrs. Buendia replied, nodding her head as the food server dished out food onto the plates. Laurie kept her gaze on her plate, not engaging in the conversation but instead listening to it. “My husband is an important person. Why, the president of Mexico, sat in that very chair the little runt is sitting on. He gave my husband a medal.”

Laurie looked up at hearing the familiar name she had been given, trying not to show that it upset her to be called that. Instead, she swallowed her anguish and spoke in a polite tone. “I was sorry to hear about your husband’s death.”

“Death? What do you mean? My husband will be home soon. He’s a very important man,” Mrs. Buendia countered, causing Billy, Melquiades and Laurie to exchange perplexed looks.

Was she seriously this delusional?

“Do you have any intentions with my daughters, boys?,” Mrs. Buendia suddenly asked, causing Laurie to almost choke on the water she drank as her eyes snapped over to the older woman once more.

“No, ma’am!,” Mel quickly replied. Laurie could tell immediately that this was a fat fucking lie.

“Watch yourself kid. We are an important family. They must marry well, or they will bring shame on us,” Mrs. Buendia warned before she then looked at Laurie, who was eating her food quietly. “Consider putting some more meat on her bones. She looks like a twig.”

Laurie sighed, putting her utensils down as she got up, going upstairs to the guestrooms that the sisters said had been prepared. She was tired of those kinds of comments and she was tired of being viewed as an injured puppy that needed to be coddled.

She just wanted to be like everyone else.

She just wanted to fit in.

A/N:

Sad Laurie, sad Laurie, sad Laurie

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@slutforsnow

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